Friends?
by Demi-goddess
Summary: OliverEnrique... The Majestics come over to Oliver's mansion and Oliver and Enrique spend some time together... YAOI! Chapter 9 onwards: Things start to change for all the Majestics and that isnt necessarily good...
1. Chapter 1

A/N- hey hey people! I wrote this while i was in yorkshire (A lil before i went) and it's and Oliver/Enrique fic... meaning YAOI! At the moment, it's a one-shot, but i will extend it so it will be a two-shot soon... Hope u like it!

* * *

"Sir, Master Giancarlo has arrived. Would you like me to send him up?"

Oliver looked up from his book. "Yes please."

His butler went back out and Oliver returned to his book. He had been expecting Enrique for a while, but the blonde was normally late, anyways.

The reason for Enrique coming to Oliver's house? Well, Oliver thought it would be nice if all The Majestics got together for a sort of reunion, since they were good friends and all…

"Hey Oli." A voice broke him away from his book again.

"Oh, hello Enrique. How have you been?" Oliver asked, putting his book down and patting the space next to him on his bed. Enrique walked over and sat.

"Not bad. Broke up with Suzie."

_'Suzie? Who's Suzie?'_ Oliver thought, wondering if it was the blonde or the red head.

"Oh."

Now he was wondering whether to be sad for him, or smug or angry…

"It doesn't matter though. We fizzled out, so I let her go." Enrique answered his unspoken question.

"Oh ok." Oliver beamed at the blonde. "Just as long as you're happy."

"I am. So how have you been?"

"Same, except I didn't break up with anyone." Enrique rolled his eyes. "But father gave me another talk on the restaurant."

"Oh. You know, you're welcome to run away and come stay with me if you want." Enrique said, his statement between a joke and an offer.

Oliver giggled. "No. It's ok. It would upset my father if I ran away, and plus I'd miss Paris."

"I suppose. Do you think Johnny will turn up?"

"Not sure." Oliver replied, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "He might. For revengeful reasons."

Enrique clapped his hands together, startling Oliver slightly.

"So, what're we going to do today? It's only midday and I can't sit around all day. Show me the French chicks!"

Oliver sighed and followed Enrique out of his room.

* * *

They walked along the River Seine, admiring its beauty… or rather the Oliver was; Enrique was admiring the beauty of the Parisian girls. 

They were planning to meet Robert and Johnny in about five minutes, back at his house. The two friends had walked around for about half an hour, chatting and…ahem…sightseeing…

"Man, I never knew French girls could be soooo cute!" Enrique exclaimed as they walked up the steps of Oliver's mansion.

Oliver laughed. "Then you should visit more, Enrique!"

"Finally…"

"Oh, hi Johnny."

"It is good to see you Oliver. Enrique." Robert said. He was lounging on the couch in the entrance hall, Johnny leaning against the banister of the grand staircase.

"Hello Robert." Oliver greeted politely, but could say no more, since his butler walked in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but master Oliver, you are needed at the restaurant." He said.

Oliver sighed and nodded. "I guess I should go." He turned to his friends. "I am sorry but urgent business has cropped up."

"Nah, doesn't matter Oli. We can wait." Enrique said.

"You only say that so you can go flirt with French girls." Johnny muttered, ignoring the glare from the Italian teen.

"Well, see you later." He said sadly, turning on his heel and walking out, his long coat trailing behind him.

"Poor Oli." Enrique said, flopping down on the couch beside Robert.

"What do you mean?" asked Johnny.

"Well, when I came to his house earlier, he told me that he'd had these talks about the restaurants and stuff and he sounded really sad." Enrique explained. "I guess he doesn't want to take over from his father." (A/N- I'm making it so that the Majestics don't know that Oli doesn't want to take over)

"But Oliver loves cooking!" Johnny exclaimed. "Why wouldn't he want to take over?"

Enrique shrugged. "I don't know! I haven't seen him for over a year. Not since the Bladebreakers won the championships in Russia."

"A year? My, that is long." Robert said, arms crossed across his chest.

"Anything could've happened between that time…"

"What?" Enrique asked the red head.

"Well, there could've been a death in the family, loss in money, art museum being robbed…"

"Listen, I know you're being sarcastic about the last thing, but why would Oliver be upset about a random art museum being robbed?" Enrique asked, and Johnny shrugged.

"Doesn't matter." Robert sighed. "We must find out what is wrong with Oliver. Even if it is something small, we have to uncover what is happening."

* * *

"Now, Oliver. Are you listening to me?" 

Oliver sighed and blew a stray strand of green hair out of his face.

"Yes, I am, father."

"Good, because I don't want to have to baby-sit you when you take over." His father said in a warning tone.

"You won't have to, because I will." Said a voice that Oliver knew only too well.

He looked up suddenly to see Enrique.

"I can take care of myself." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. To his father he seemed moody and annoyed with his friend, but the Italian knew better; Oliver's purple eyes told him so (A/N- I think they're purple…).

"Well, sorry!" Enrique replied, putting on a mock hurt face. Oliver managed to swallow his laughter at the blonde Italian, whom looked adorable with his expression.

"Oliver… maybe you should take this outside." Oliver's father said, as if a fight was going to happen. "I'll either see you tonight or tomorrow."

Oliver got up and walked past Enrique in a 'mood'. Enrique followed him casually. When outside and out of range of the elder Frenchman, Oliver embraced Enrique in a hug.

"Thank you!" He exclaimed, smushing his cheek against Enrique's. Said Italian laughed and hugged back.

"S'ok Oli." He chuckled. "It's just you looked so bored and depressed in there, as if you were wishing the ground would swallow you up whole! I had to rescue you!"

"Hehe." Oliver laughed, letting go of Enrique. "Now you _are_ a knight in shining armour!"

A small- well actually- _large_ part of Enrique was disappointed. He had loved being close to Oliver, though he didn't know why.

'_Probably brotherly, sibling-y thingy.' _He mused.

"So where're Johnny and Robert?" Oliver asked as they set off along the path in the park.

"Actually, I don't know." Enrique said truthfully. "Oh wait! Now I do!"

Oliver rolled his eyes.

_'Typical Enrique…'_

"Some group of brats insulted us and they went to teach them a lesson, or something like that." Enrique explained with a shrug. "I decided to come get you. I don't really care what they call me."

"Yes. It's what you think of yourself that matters." Oliver added, with a smile. Enrique smiled back.

"So what shall we do today?" Enrique asked. "And you'll notice I said 'we', so that means us two. Together."

"I'm not sure. I didn't really think about what we'd all do apart from talking and blading, so-"

"So let's do that! We'll talk for a bit… catch up… and then battle, which of course, I will win."

"You're on."

* * *

"Remember that time when Tyson and Max thought we were kidnapping them? We had to teach them a lesson and-" 

"And we decided to teach them at some abandoned building in Russia!" Oliver finished. (A/N- I think it was Russia…)

They laughed. Seated on Oliver's king sized bed, Oliver lay with his head in Enrique's lap, said Italian running his fingers through his silky, green hair.

Oliver sighed. "I thought I'd forgotten how to laugh properly. I should've had you over earlier."

"Yeah, I'm hurt you didn't invite me over sooner." Enrique pouted.

Oliver retaliated by hitting the Italian squarely on the face with a pillow. Enrique fell back, but quickly grabbed a pillow himself and hitting the French boy back. The pillow fight carried on, with them running round the room, climbing on the bed, both not sure who was winning or losing… just having fun. White feathers soon fell, coating the bed and floor thinly in a white, fluffy layer. They collapsed on the bed after about 10 minutes fighting, lying next to each other. Oliver stared at the canopy of his bed, while Enrique lay on his side, hand holding his head up, looking at the petite teen.

Oliver sighed. "That was… fun."

"Yeah. Was." Enrique said, out of breath.

"Can you only say two words?" Oliver giggled, closing his eyes. A thought struck him like a bolt of lightening and he opened his eyes again, scanning the room. "Wonder what Johnny and Robert are going to say about this."

"Nah, they won't care. Just wonder why we played such a childish game."

"But it isn't childish." Oliver huffed. "Just because we played a fun game, doesn't make it childish… but they'll call it childish anyway."

"Yeah."

Oliver rolled over and faced Enrique. He suddenly giggled and reached forward, pulling out a small, white feather out of the blonde's hair. Enrique laughed as well as Oliver blew it away, watching the object float around…

* * *

Soft breathing was all Enrique could hear, if you exclude his own natural way of staying alive. He slowly opened his eyes, trying to adjust to the pitch-blackness of the once bright room. 

He didn't realise he'd fallen asleep… come to think of it… when had he fallen asleep?

He shifted slightly, the soft mattress moving under his weight, giving a small squeak that made him freeze, careful of the French boy that he was sure was there. A small sniff and a sigh confirm his beliefs of the whereabouts of his friend.

He looked over his shoulder and out the window, trying to look for the moon or stars but found nothing, but could trace outlines of clouds. He gave a small sigh himself and looked back at Oliver, whom he could see now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness; though he could only see where he was.

Sliding carefully off the bed, he hung his feet over the side and opened Oliver's bedside cupboard, grabbing a small portable lamp. Turning it onto the highest setting he could risk, he set it down on the floor in front of the bed, so the light would mostly spread away from the other teen and him.

He sat back down on the other side, next to Oliver and gave a quiet sigh. He reached forward and brushed a few strands away from his friends face.

'_Oli looks so peaceful… wait, scrap that… he's **always** peaceful…he's just even calmer while asleep...'_

His hand accidentally brushed against his cheek, feeling the silk-like skin beneath his fingers. He brought his hand back, but not fast enough, since Oliver woke up with normal waking-up noises.

"Uh? Enrique? What happened?" Oliver asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

"Uh…" Enrique began, the bridge of his nose crimson; he was sure his cheeks would follow. "I guess we fell asleep."

_'Nice save! Go Enri! Go Enri! It's your birthday!'_

"Oh, ok." Oliver beamed sleepily, obviously not having noticed his friend's new choice in colour. "Gosh, I think we've thrown off out internal compasses."

Enrique scratched his head. "What?"

"Well, if we stay up now, we'll be sleepy in the morning, we'll go to bed, and wake up evening and the whole thing continues."

"I see what you mean. Though I'm not sure what time it is…"

Oliver giggled. "Doesn't matter. Let's go down. We can always find something to do to make us sleepy again…"

As Oliver got up and straightened his clothes, Enrique breathed a sigh of relief, wiping his brow. Then he spotted something white in Oliver's short, green hair (Which he hadn't actually seen before, since he always wore that beret).

"Oli, wait up. You've got something in your hair." Enrique said, walking over. He stood in front of him and pulled the incriminating white feather out of the boy's hair. "Déjà vu."

"Déjà vu…" Oliver murmured.

Then, without the two fully realising it, their lips were touching in a sweet and tender kiss. Nothing fancy, nor 'frenchy', just quick and chaste. Pulling back, Enrique's heart was hammering against his chest, him (and Oliver) having just realised what they had done.

"I… uh… see you in a minute, Oliver. I gotta… nature calls…" Enrique stuttered, running out the door.

* * *

Running into his room, Enrique slammed the door shut and leant against it, sliding down the ancient oak with a sigh. What had happened? 

"Jesus…Christ…" He breathed, closing his eyes.

He walked to his little en-suite bathroom and looked in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. After composing himself, he walked out of his room and made his way downstairs…

------With Oliver------

"I… uh… see you in a minute, Oliver. I gotta… nature calls…" Enrique stuttered, running out the door.

Oliver blinked stupidly.

'What just happened?' he asked himself.

Shaking his head, he walked back over to the feather covered bed and grabbed his beret off the bedside table. Putting it on his head, he walked downstairs, treading nimbly down the lit corridors to the living room. He heard talking and a little bit of laughter.

"Oliver! Where've you been? We thought you were out!" Johnny exclaimed when Oliver appeared.

He and Robert were once again lounging on the couches (though Robert more gentlemen-like!).

Oliver shrugged. "When Enrique and I got back we were both tired, so we went back to our rooms."

"Well, there's no harm in that." Robert noted. "Though you'll be awake at the most awful times."

"That's what Oli said." A voice said from up the stairs.

"Gee, everyone's awake now! Hooray!" Johnny exclaimed, voice heaving with sarcasm.

"Johnny, stop it." Robert ordered, giving the Scottish boy a glare. "You got your 'revenge', now give it a rest."

"But I'm bored."

"You're always bored, mon ami." Oliver sighed. "But if you want, I'll battle you."

"Finally! A good opponent!" Johnny huffed, and he leapt up, grabbing his blade and following Oliver outside. Robert and Enrique followed.

------------(Soz, I'm jumpin' about, I know)-----------------

"Nice match, Oli. But next time it won't end in a tie and I'll win." Johnny said, stifling a yawn. "But now I need to catch some Z's."

"I have to say the same for me." Robert added. "Though I can guess you two don't."

He gestured to Oliver and Enrique, who nodded.

"Ah well. At least we don't have to tuck you in and kiss you goodnight." Johnny snickered and Robert chuckled.

"Well, we shall see you two tomorrow. Sleep well." Robert bid them goodbye and he and Johnny walked back inside.

An uncomfortable silence shrouded the two teens.

"Listen Oli." Enrique began. "I'm really sorry about… you know… earlier… I don't know what happened. But can we still be friends and forget about it?"

Oliver smiled. "Sure."

"Great!"

"But…" Oliver said, and Enrique frowned.

_'Is Oliver… smirking? He never smirks… let alone evilly… oh lord…'_

"What?" Enrique asked, fearing the worst. "You aren't going to tell the girls? Or Johnny and Robert?"

"Nope. I just thought. If you've kissed loads of girls… then how come that kiss was a load of pig swill?"

"What!"

Oliver giggled and ran away.

"Oh, no you don't, mister. You come back here!" Enrique yelled, but the green-haired teen did not obey. "Fine, but you're dead when I find you!"

Enrique set off at a run after Oliver, following the laughter. He then found himself in front of a huge hedge.

_'Just great. A maze. Why did he have to run in there? Wait no, scrap that… why did he have to build one?'_

He shook his head and ran in, knowing that he would get lost inside and Oliver wouldn't; the French boy probably knew every twist and turn off by heart. He took a left, a right, another right and a right again; as you can tell, he didn't have the foggiest idea where he was going.

After a around five minutes, while he was leaning against a sturdy hedge, he heard giggling again so immediately stood straight and ran in the direction. He caught sight of a blue blur whipping around the corner and figured it was Oliver's long coat, which he favoured very much.

'_Gotcha.'_

"Oli! You're so dead when I catch you!" he repeated at a steady level, so not to let Oliver know he was out of breath already.

"Really, Enrique?" Came the taunting reply. "First you kiss me, then you kill me… do you do this to all your girlfriends? I've heard of kiss and tell, but kiss and kill…?"

'_There you are…'_

Leaping forward, he caught the French boy off guard as he rounded the corner and jumped on him. Oliver landed on his back, Enrique on top and straddling his hips, grinning.

"Now, how to do this…" Enrique fake pondered.

"You're heavy."

"Gee, thanks." Enrique replied, putting his hands either side of Oliver's head, to take most of his weight of the French boy.

"So, how am I going to die, then?" Oliver asked. "Death by drowning… death by stoning… guillotine…"

"Ew! Not the guillotine! I hate that thing! All the blood…!"

Oliver giggled at Enrique's expression.

"Typical Enrique…" He murmured.

"Anyway…" An evil smirk appeared on Enrique's face. "What did you say before you ran?"

"How come that kiss was a load of pig swill?" Oliver repeated, also smirking.

"Because it wasn't planned. And also because… I've never kissed a boy before."

"I would've thought that, since you're a playboy." Oliver replied quietly, because of Enrique's last statement.

"A what? Is that what people call me?" Enrique put another mock hurt face on again. "I'm hurt."

"Well, it's true."

"Yeah, I suppose… but to more serious matters… so, you think I'm a rubbish kisser?"

"Yep."

"I'm hurt again, but how do you know, if I've only pecked you on the lips _once_?"

Oliver shrugged. He then noticed that Enrique was leaning forward, until his lips were hovering right over Oliver's, his hot breath on his cheeks.

"Well… let me prove it to you then…"

He fully pressed his lips on the French boy's own, not giving him a way out. Oliver began to kiss back, both forgetting _who_ they were kissing… (Or had they?)

Enrique pulled away slowly and looked at Oliver.

"Friends?" He whispered gently.

Oliver smiled back. "Friends."

* * *

A/N- ya, odd ending, I know, but all will be clear when I next update. Which might not be that soon, because I'm a naughty girl and have not completed all mah other fics… hehe, oh well… Review please! 


	2. Chapter 2

"What about that one?"

"How can that look like Johnny's hair?"

The two friends were laying one their backs in the middle of the maze, staring up at the morning sky, watching clouds roll across the sky and trying to see images in them. They had lain there ever since earlier that night.

"Well, I'm sorry! But you have to admit, it does look like his hair…"

"It looks like a porcupine…"

"Exactly!" Enrique exclaimed.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "You try saying that to him."

"I will." Enrique replied, and Oliver turned his head to look at his best friend.

"Do you want a fancy funeral, or private?"

"Shut up. Weren't you supposed to meet your father?"

Oliver sighed sadly. "Yes…"

Enrique sat up. "Oh, come on Oli. It can't be that bad. After you take over, we'll still be around… I'll still be around. Promise."

"You can promise all you want about you being there, but how can I promise that I'll be there?" He glanced at Enrique's confused expression and sat up. "I hardly get to see my father… If I can barely see my father, how will I be able to see you?"

"Oh come on, Oli…" Enrique said, embracing his best friend in a hug. "We'll see each other. Maybe not as much as we do now-"

"Which is slim to none-"

"But we'll see each other all the same."

"But…" Enrique let go, and looked at Oliver. "I… don't want to take over…"

"Why?"

Oliver shrugged nonchalantly. "Does it matter?"

"Yes." Enrique replied sternly, and Oliver sighed.

"I feel… that I'm too young. I'm only seventeen… I need- want to see the world. To keep competing in beyblade tournaments with you guys… but when I take over… that won't be happening…" He paused, looking at Enrique with moist purple eyes, wet with tears. "It's supposed to be an honour to take over this." He laughed softly and looked up into the sky, watching a bird fly overhead. "Some honour…"

Enrique was astounded by Oliver's sudden show of emotions about his family business. He had thought the French boy had been looking forward to finally taking the Polanski's future into his own hands, but now… he was definatly sure that Oliver didn't want to do that.

A stray tear caught Enrique's eye as it rolled down Oliver's cheek and he swiped it off with his index finger, before taking hold of his chin and forcing Oliver to look at him. He gave a lop sided smile and hugged the French boy again with more force, rubbing his back soothingly. He felt the other grip his small jacket tightly and Enrique felt Oliver's head on his shoulder.

"Oliver?"

"Mm hm?"

"If you want, I'll stay here as long as you want…"

"Thank you…" Came the muffled reply.

* * *

"Jesus, you two look like you slept in a hedge, before being dragged out of it backwards."

"Thanks. You too."

"Giancarlo…" Johnny growled.

Robert spotted Oliver's slightly red-rimmed eyes. "Oliver? Are you alright?"

"Huh? Yeah, why?" Oliver asked.

"You look ill. And I suppose sleeping outside did the trick. I say you go back to _bed _and sleep." Robert replied.

"But I have a-a-a-" But Oliver couldn't suppress the yawn anymore. "Meeting with my father this morning. I can't miss it."

"I'll tell him that you're resting, Oli. Don't worry." Enrique assured his friend, who nodded and walked up the staircase, up to his room. Enrique turned to the others when he heard a door slam. "I know what's up with Oliver."

"Sit." Robert said simply, gesturing to one of the armchairs.

"So…?"

"It's the Polanski restaurant." Enrique said, his thoughts trailing back to when they had sat in the maze. "Oliver doesn't want to take over it."

"Are you sure he's serious?" Johnny asked.

"Yes."

"How-?"

"He was crying."

Silence.

"He…"

Enrique nodded. "Not blubbering, but there were tears in his eyes. I have the wet patch on my shoulder to prove it."

Robert sat with his arms crossed and eyes closed, obviously thinking hard.

"What…exactly, from your memory, did he say?" he asked finally.

"Um… he said he didn't want to take over, firstly. When I asked him why he says that he thinks he's too young and that he wants to see the world and beyblade." He paused, trying to remember what else the young Polanski had said. "He went on to say that it's supposed to be an honour to be given the Polanski restaurant, but he doesn't think it an honour."

Silence reigned for a few seconds.

"So now that we know what's going on, what're we gonna do?" Johnny asked, looking mainly at Robert.

"I'm staying here for a while longer." Enrique said. "Oli said he wanted me to. You guys can stay if you want."

"I think it would be better if we did; have some friendly faces about the place." Robert commented.

"Nothing friendly about Johnny's face…" Enrique muttered.

"Listen, you're on the right road for a broken jaw." Johnny retorted.

"Is that a threat, McGregor?"

"No. It's a promise and I tend to keep it."

Robert sighed as the argument carried on. He stood and proceeded up the grand staircase, continuing to Oliver's room, but was stopped by none other than Oliver's father.

"Ah, Robert my boy." The Elder Polanski greeted. "Have you seen Oliver?"

"He is resting, sir. He said he felt ill." Robert replied.

"Ah, must've been stressful." The man said thoughtfully. "Fights with best friends are never good. Well, I shall see you later, Robert. And tell Oliver to see me when he feels better; we have business to discuss."

The man walked away, leaving Robert puzzled.

'Fights with best friends?' Robert shrugged and walked up to Oliver's room, going to knock but the door opened.

"Oliver?" He asked, looking round the empty room, finding no Oliver. The balcony was empty also. He was about to go back out when he heard a strangled sob coming from the en-suite bathroom. "Oliver?"

The soft sobbing continued and Robert made his way over to the wooden door quietly. Easing it open, he peeked round to see the French boy sitting on the closed toilet lid, legs to his chest, arms wrapped around them and sobbing into his knees.

"Oliver?" He repeated softly and Oliver's head sprung up suddenly. Oliver wiped his eyes quickly.

"S-Sorry, R-Robert. I d-didn't know y-you w-were th-there." He stuttered, standing shakily.

"Oliver, what's wrong?" Robert asked concerned, but Oliver shook his head, green bangs falling over his face.

"N-Nothing."

Oliver made to walk past Robert, but his shaking legs gave way. Robert caught his petite frame before he hit the floor.

"I don't call that 'fine', Oliver. Come on, let's get you sat down."

Robert helped Oliver back into his room, finding that the French boy was leaning on him heavily, as if exhausted; but he put it down to crying too much. They finally made it to the huge four-poster bed and Robert helped Oliver sit on the edge.

"Oliver…" He began.

"Oli?" Came a worried voice from the doorway; Enrique.

Robert made a gesture to tell him to stay in the doorway, before turning to the boy beside him.

"Would you rather talk to me or Enrique? Or would you like to be left alone?" He whispered, so only the French boy could hear.

"Enrique…" He heard Oliver croak.

He nodded and stood slowly, walking over to the Italian.

"What's wrong?" Enrique asked worriedly, but quietly.

"I found him crying in the bathroom. Talk to him, Enrique, but don't force any answers out of him. Treat him like a glass statue that could break any second."

Enrique nodded.

'Glass statue… right… glass statue…'

He proceeded over to the bed, and sat on the edge next to Oliver, looking at his best friend. He opened his mouth to speak…

"I… just can't…take it anymore…" Oliver whispered.

"Take what?"

Oliver was silent for a few seconds. "Everything…"

* * *

A/N- ooooooh! What's wrong with Oliver? Well, you'll have to wait to find out! (Evil laugh)

Thankies to all reviews!


	3. Chapter 3

Enrique sighed as he closed his eyes once more, willing himself to fall asleep; but it wasn't happening. He shifted a bit, causing the arms around his waist to tighten, as if they feared he would leave.

Oliver's words echoed in the Italian's head.

'_I just can't take it anymore…'_

'_Everything…'_

After he had said those two sentences, Enrique had felt like his soul had been frozen. He had feared the worst; he couldn't think, let alone speak. But his body took over and soon Oliver was enveloped in Enrique's arms once more for the third time that day.

He had looked down at the French boy a few moments later to find him fast asleep, so he had lain back on the pillows, bringing Oliver with him; that had been a few hours ago.

The sun was still shining through the open windows, a small, cooling and soothing breeze blowing through. The Parisian atmosphere outside screamed tranquillity, but Enrique knew that one of its people was far from tranquil.

Beside him, the green haired teen mumbled something incoherent under his breath and he smiled again. He had realised during his train of thoughts that the line of their friendship was slowly being penetrated, meaning that…

"Enrique." Someone whispered from the doorway and he opened one eye lazily to see Johnny.

"What?" He mouthed.

Johnny made a gesture with his hand to ask if he was ok (the diver's one) and Enrique nodded. Johnny gave a lop sided smile and closed the door quietly.

* * *

"They're ok." Johnny told Robert, slumping in one of the chairs. "Well, at least Enrique is. Oliver was asleep; in Enrique's arms, might I add."

"We'll deal with that later, Johnny, but now we have more important matters to attend." Robert replied.

"So what do you think happened?"

Robert sighed sadly. "I do not know. But I think Enrique was right; it has to be die Gaststätte." He said, referring to 'the restaurant' in his mother tongue.

Johnny nodded, since he knew German. It wasn't safe to talk about the family business in the family's home, especially with Oliver's father in the establishment.

"But I guess we cannot know what is up with him, until he is able to tell us. There is no point in playing the guessing game when it could be anything."

"But what about what Enrique said?" Johnny countered.

Robert thought for a moment, before sighing.

"There is no proof that that is the main cause, Johnny. It could just be one of the factors. Many things can cause people to momentarily breakdown. Work… family… friends… loved one-"

Robert stopped. Johnny and Robert stared at each other for a long time.

"You don't think…"

* * *

Demi-goddess: You don't think what?

Johnny: You wrote it.

Demi-goddess: So I did…

Johnny: Review.

Enrique: Why should they?

Johnny: Because otherwise Demi-goddess won't update until she gets at least 5 reviews.

Enrique: 5? That's… I dunno, is it a lot or little?

Demi-goddess: BOB.

Johnny: 'BOB'?

Demi-goddess: Bit Of Both. It's groovyied. But yeah, REVIEW!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- before I start this chapter, I would like to say three things:

1) I apologise for the TOTAL lateness of this update. I have been struggling with Writers block lately (just like mah MSN Messenger name says: 'Writers Block is a ghost, and it continues to haunt me'). To get rid of it, I have been taking mah stress out on mah drawings; coursework and general (visit mah DeviantArt account (remove spaces!)- http/ demi-goddess. deviantart. com/) but apart from that, it doesn't seem to be relenting...

2) I need to ask a question: In Grev, I know that Robert and Johnny are in the tournament, but do Enrique and Oliver play a part too? I've got a screenshot of the Majestics (AND OLI LOOKS YUMMY!) but I need to know I they actually appear, if ya know what I mean…

…

Johnny: What's the third thing?

Demi-goddess: The thir- OH, yeah! Please review and make me happy! I need to know that my work is good. If not, then I'll wait for the writers block to go, before continuing, so that my work is worth reading…

And here we go!

Cool voice: Previously on 'Friends'

_**The One with Chandler in a Box:** Still angry that Chandler had kissed Joey's girlfriend, Joey locks Chandler in a box to punish hi-_

Demi-goddess: WHAT THE_** -**_ ? WRONG ONE, YOU IDIOT! That's 'friends'. This is 'friends' See the question mark? See? That's a BIG difference!

Cool voice: sorry… Previously on 'Friends'

_Enrique is left to his thoughts while Oliver sleeps beside him from exhaustion after his breakdown. Johnny and Robert try to figure out what was wrong, if it wasn't the restaurant, but stumble on something…bigger… though you don't know what! HA!_

Demi-goddess: stop being horrible to mah readers, evil guy with a cool voice! ON WITH THE CHAPPIE! (in background: DIE YOU EVIL CHAVVY BLOKE!)

* * *

"Enrique?"

"Hm?"

"I'm… sorry."

"Sorry for what, Oli? You've nothing to be sorry 'bout."

"I just feel so… ashamed." Oliver sighed, his grip tightening around Enrique's waist. "Ashamed that I broke down so suddenly. Without warning. And in front of Robert, as well… he probably thinks me weak."

"Robert won't think you weak, Oli. If he does, then he'll have at least two less teammates." Enrique assured the younger French teen. "And can you imagine Robert calling you weak? He's a guy of honour and I respect and trust him, even though he can be as annoying as Johnny." Oliver smiled. "So don't you worry your little green head 'bout it, Oli."

"Thanks Enrique." Oliver sniffed. "But you kind of ruined it with the comment about my hair."

"But lovely hair it is, Oli." Enrique chuckled, ruffling Oliver's hair affectionately. "But… you know… you're going to have to face the fearsome restaurant sometime…"

Oliver giggled and sat up, surprising Enrique. "You know how to make things seem less… what's the word?"

"I dunno, Oli, but I know what you mean…" Enrique smirked evilly. "Be afraid! Be very afraid! I'm the evil restaurant! Fear me, or I shall set my army of cooks and pretty waitresses on you!"

Oliver laughed, the restaurant partly forgotten, as they wrestled. Enrique won and immediately started tickling our poor French teen (A/N- whom we all love! Enrique: he's mine, dammit!).

"Enri-ahaha, stop it! Hehe, no! S-Stop! It-" but he broke down into laughter…

* * *

"Johnny, do you hear that?"

"Yeah…"

"Sounds like laughter…"

A sigh. "Enrique's in his tickling mood…"

"His what?"

"...Never mind."

* * *

"Does tickling solve everything for you?"

"Sometimes, no; sometimes, yes." Enrique replied, watching his best friend lean on the stone banister of the balcony, while he was perched on the edge (legs hanging on the side with the floor, of course.).

Oliver brushed strands of green hair out his eyes, which the wind had blown there.

"Doesn't matter if it does. But it's fun."

"For you, maybe. My sides and stomach muscles hurt like hell." Oliver mumbled, while Enrique smirked; but the smirk soon faded.

"You… ok now?" He asked cautiously.

Oliver sighed, looking out over the expanse of Paris. "As 'ok' as I'll ever be… I mean, I can't be sure that running the restaurant is that bad, but… something inside of me… it's telling me that I'm not meant for it… like it's telling me to keep away…" He laughed, mostly to himself. "It's silly I know…"

"No, Oli, it isn't silly." Enrique protested, pushing himself off the concrete banister and over to Oliver, wrapping his arms round the other teens waist (in a friendly manner). "Do you want to know what I think that…'voice' is?" Oliver nodded, still staring out into the city, as if lost in its winding alleyways. "That 'voice' is your heart… and you have to listen to it…"

* * *

Demi-goddess: Since when have you gone mushy, Enrique-poo?

Enrique: We've been through this. You wrote it!

Demi-goddess: So I did…

Johnny: Oh stop it.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, Enrique?"

"Hm?" Enrique answered, absentmindedly turning the page of his book.

"Where's Oliver? I haven't seen him all day…"

"Oh, he's at the restaurant…"

Johnny and Robert exchanged glances.

"Er, you sure?"

"Yup."

"Really sure?"

"Yup."

"Absolutely, positively-"

"Yes, he gets it, Johnny. Now be quiet." Robert told Johnny.

Enrique sighed and closed his book. "Yes, I talked to Oliver yesterday and we agreed that he would talk to his father and stuff. And if he found it stressing, he'd come to one of us."

"I guess that seems fair." Robert commented. A lop-sided smile came to his lips. "And you know what, Enrique? You've been a loyal and true friend. I doubt that if we-mainly you-hadn't been here, Oliver might've had a breakdown; and a serious one at that."

"He just…"

"'He just' what?" Johnny pressed.

"…" Enrique paused for a while, "…he just doesn't seem the type. He seemed so calm and collective before; always coming up with solutions to problems before we even had the chance to start thinking. I'm beginning to think that Oliver's changed… a lot… well, maybe not a lot, and even if he has, not in a bad way, but-"

"Enrique, you're rambling…" Johnny growled.

"It's in my blood."

"No, it's in the space where your brain is supposed to be."

"Stop talking about yourself, McGregor."

"Why you little-"

"Johnny! Enrique!" Robert semi-shouted, catching their attention just in time to stop Johnny's sentence; he held up two fingers. "Two words: Shut. Up. You two act like brothers…"

"That's seven words, Robert." Enrique pointed out.

A vein pulsed on Robert's brow and he looked at Johnny, who was looking at him expectantly. "Be my guest."

"Dead meat, Giancarlo!" Johnny yelled as he chased the blonde outside into the garden. "That's what you are: dead meat!"

Enrique just gave a slight squeak and quickened his pace. He weaved in and out of the evergreen trees until he spotted the maze. Luckily, he still remembered running through it after Oliver, so he knew where most of the dead ends were. He grinned like a Cheshire cat and ran in; he was delighted to hear Johnny give a very colourful curse behind the wall/hedge next to him.

A few minutes later, he rounded the corner to the middle of the maze and stopped suddenly, blinking.

"Oli? What're you doing here?"

"Huh? Oh, hi Enrique…" The French boy replied. Enrique smiled, walking over and lying next to Oliver. "I finished at the restaurant and needed some time to myself…"

"Oh… do you want me to leave, then?"

"No, no. Stay. Anyway, I think you're safer here than with Johnny."

"Yeah, I sup- wait, how'd you know I was running away from Johnny?" Enrique asked bewildered.

Oliver giggled. "Many reasons… one being that I heard all those lovely curses coming from his mouth."

Enrique laughed, glancing at Oliver's tranquil expression as the French boy stared lazily at the sapphire-blue sky dotted with a few wispy clouds. Oliver sighed happily, closing his eyes, a small smile on his face.

"You know, this is what I want to do. Take life at a pace that suits me… enjoy life for what it's worth… live each day to its full potential…"

"In other words: be a lazy bum."

"Enrique!"

"Whaaaat?"

Oliver sat up and turned his back on Enrique, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I'm hurt, Enrique." Oliver pouted, throwing the look over his shoulder.

"Oh come on, Oli." Enrique whined as he sat up too; though he knew that Oliver was faking his 'hurt'. "I didn't mean it." He wrapped his arms round the other's waist and rested his head on his shoulder. He waited for a while. "Forgive me?"

"Might do…"

"What'll it take?"

Oliver pretended to think. "Hmmm… if you do the washing up, the I might consider it…"

"No way."

"Do you have a better agreement, then, Enrique?"

"Indeed I do…"

Raising a hand, he pulled Oliver's head to the side and pressed his lips against the French boy's. His grip around Oliver's waist tightened as he felt him shift, but instead of pulling away, Oliver turned his body around so he was facing Enrique. In a matter of seconds, he found himself straddling the Italian and Enrique's hands cupping his behind, pulling him closer. The green-haired teen wound his arms round the blonde's neck for stability as the kiss intensified.

But neither noticed a pair of purple eyes watching them, an almost feral grin etched on his face.

"Well, whadda ya know? I knew it… wait till Robert hears about this…" Johnny muttered as he turned and ran, still grinning…

* * *

A/N- oooo! So, Enrique and Oliver do harbour feelings for each other and now Johnny knows! Soon Robert will know! What will happen…?

P.S- sorry for the slow update… I somehow managed cut to my hand while ice skating. It weren't mah fault! Some dude went right into me and… well, the details are gory… to put it short, the edge of his skate got dug into mah hand… hehe, I didn't actually feel it; twas weird… but I had to write this chapter ( just like the chapter for A Pheonix Love) all one handedly… bloody hell, don't try it…

Anywho, Review! DAMN RYHMES!


	6. Chapter 6

"How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long have you…" Oliver trailed off shyly.

"Had feelings for you?" Enrique finished and he felt Oliver nod against his shoulder. "To be honest, Oli, I'm not sure… I guess I started seeing you as more than a best friend… more than a little brother…"

"Little? Who you calling 'little'?" Oliver frowned raising his head to look at Enrique, a pout on his lips. "I'm the same age as you."

"Correction: you're just over three months younger than me. Your birthday is in July and mine is in October." He took one of his hands off Oliver's waist and held up three fingers. "Three months."

"Know-it-all." Oliver mumbled, resting his head on Enrique's shoulder once more. He sighed sadly.

Enrique caught the tone in his sigh. "Something wrong, Oli?"

"Just… my father's… a… he's a bit of a homophobe…" Oliver muttered, surprising Enrique slightly.

"Well, he doesn't have to know, does he?"

"I guess…"

"You know what?"

Oliver raised his head again. "What?"

Enrique inched forward, his grip around Oliver's waist tightening as his lips ghosted over the French's. "You worry too much…"

And with that he pressed his mouth firmly against the other's…

* * *

"Catch him?"

Johnny collapsed on the couch, panting heavily from running.

"I could've…"

"Stop lying, Jonathon." Johnny growled at the use of his real name. "You didn't find him, so you couldn't catch him."

"Actually…"

Robert sighed. "What have you done now?"

"What?" Johnny exclaimed. "_I_ didn't do anything; _Enrique and Oliver_ did!"

Robert raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue.

"Enrique-"

* * *

Oliver broke away from the kiss, panting. He smiled slightly as Enrique leaned in again for another breathtaking kiss; literally. Their mouths meshed together in a fit of passion. A sigh escaped Oliver's lips and Enrique took this took his advantage, moving his tongue into the French boy's mouth…

* * *

Pause.

"You could be jumping to conclusions, you know." Robert said after Johnny had explained what he had seen.

Johnny frowned. "Usually, when two people swap spit, it means they like each other."

Robert grimaced. "Lovely, Johnny, just lovely." He muttered, before sighing. "But does it matter if they are together?"

Johnny shook his head. "No, but there's someone who might…" He said, pointing to the door of a large office.

"Who? Oliver's father?"

"Yeah, I heard he's a homophobe."

Robert remained silent for a while. "There's nothing we can do. We can only keep this matter to ourselves. You know how the saying goes, 'The course of true love never does run smoothly'."

"Oh, don't go all Shakespeare on me, Robert!"

Robert shrugged and smiled. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but Oliver and Enrique may not have true love. They might just be fu-"

"Don't want to hear it, Johnny!"

* * *

"How do you think Robert and Johnny will react when they find out, Oli?" Enrique asked the green-haired one, brushing a few bangs out of his face as Oliver sat sideways in Enrique's lap.

Oliver shrugged. "I don't know. They'll probably accept it, you know. Be shocked at first, but they'll be fine with it. Johnny might be a little bit taunting at first, but Robert'll get him to quieten down."

Enrique chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. He'll probably think that we're just fu-"

"Don't want to hear it, Enrique!"

* * *

A/N- hehe, had fun with this chap. Did u? Can anyone guess what Johnny and Enrique were about to say? Hehe, it's rude, that I can say… (evil grin)

Anywho, Review!


	7. Chapter 7

"Robert?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You didn't really give me the opportunity to let you…"

"What?"

"Well, you said, 'Can I ask you a question?' which in turn is a question, therefore, you did ask a question already."

Johnny remained quiet. "Damn you, Jurgen… Right, then, if you're gunna be like that, can I ask you two questions?"

"Go ahead with your final question…"

"Do you think that Enrique and Oliver will ever get out of that damned maze?"

"Good question… but why're you so anxious for them to appear?"

"Robert."

"What?"

"Don't tell me you can't wait to taunt them."

"Why would I want to taunt them?"

"That's what you do with your best friend's girlfriend/boyfriend. You taunt them. It's the law."

"And where would this 'law' be written?"

"Nowhere. It is a spoken law."

"Uh huh, and why haven't we, as you say, 'taunted' Enrique about his past million girlfriends?"

Johnny shrugged. "I dunno; I didn't have the time. Too busy kicking his arse in battling at the time, most probably."

"Or too busy having your behind kicked in chess to realise."

"Hey!"

"What? Would you like to live a lie, Jonathon?"

"Stop calling me that! It's 'Johnny', not 'Jonathon'."

"I can call you what I want."

"Well, I can call you 'a total prick' but I don't go around saying it."

"Don't have to be so uncouth about it, _Johnny_."

"Thank you."

"You're unwelcome."

**_

* * *

Later that night_**

* * *

"Ok, I bet fifty Euros that they will come back inside looking somehow dishevelled in some sort of way."

"Define what you mean."

"Like that."

Johnny pointed over at the door, where Enrique and Oliver came staggering in, totally and utterly-

"Why are you soaking wet?" Rober inquired.

"Someone-" Oliver shot the Italian a glare, "decided to push me into the river."

"So how'd he get wet?" Johnny asked, watching Oliver wring out his beret.

"I pulled him in too."

"Nice…"

"No, it isn't 'nice', Johnny. I feel totally and utterly-"

"Saturated?"

"Yes, thank you."

"You're welcome." Oliver grinned, his green bangs sticking to his nose. He wiped them out of the way. "Now if you don't mind, I want to wash and change. I feel-"

"Saturated? Ow! No need to hit me in the head, Oli…" Enrique sighed. "I think I'm gunna do the same…"

"Not in the same shower, I hope!" Johnny called after the Italian as he watched Enrique disappear out the room. He turned to Robert. "Hand it over, Robert."

"Hand over what?"

"The fifty Euros."

"Damn, I suppose you're right."

"Wanna make another?"

"Why not?"

"I bet that Enrique and Oliver will share the same bed tonight."

"Ok, fine. How much?"

Johnny pondered it. "AthousandEuros."

"Deal."

* * *

A/N- Now that's just mean, but oh well. What will Johnny do to make them share the same bed? (wink, wink)

Anywho Review!


	8. Chapter 8

A refreshed Oliver came out of his bathroom, feeling way cleaner than he had done just over half an hour ago. Wearing baggy joggers (boxers underneath, of course) and a plain tee, he felt… well, normal. Not as if he was the son of a French aristocrat… but if Oliver's father saw him wearing these clothes- no, _owning_ these clothes, it would be lecture city for the poor French boy.

He sighed, throwing his dirty clothes down the laundry chute before flopping on the bed, staring up at the four-poster bed canopy. Flicking over ideas of what to do for the remainder of the night, he heaved another sigh and got off his comfy bed, walking over and opening the double doors to the balcony. A cool, soft breeze played over his exposed skin and fluttered through his freshly-washed hair, and he smiled. Walking out, he leant on the far side of the smallish balcony and stared out at the city of Paris, its millions of lights from houses looking like a sea of stars. The Eiffel Tower stood proud, the lights up the sides glowing in the pitch darkness giving away its position as if it were day. This is what he lived for; the beauty of the Parisian life.

But he was pulled away from his thinking, when he heard his door slam and angry, Italian curses. Letting a 'Huh?' escape his lips, he stood fully and walked over to the doors, looking in; he smiled.

"Your room is down the hall, Enrique."

"I know that Oli, but the damn Scot has locked us in here." Enrique huffed, giving up on the door handle. "Oh well." He smirked. "Nice outfit. You'd certainly catch the ladies' eyes with that number."

Oliver lazily threw a pillow at the Italian before walking back out to the balcony. He heard Enrique follow.

"You know I'm not planning to catch girls' eyes, Enri." Oliver replied, looking out on the city; Enrique stood next to him, mimicking his leaning on the stone banister. "And I'd never go outside like this, anyway."

"But you are outside, Oli."

"Listen, if you want to sleep out here for the night, you're heading the right way." Oliver warned.

"What? You _want_ me to catch pneumonia and die? _Me_?"

Oliver laughed. "Stop being such a drama king, Enri."

"Can't help it. I'm Italian, remember?"

Oliver smiled and shook his head sadly. The only sound that was heard from then on was the wind rustling through the tree below them.

"So… Sharing a bed, eh?"

"Don't get any ideas, Enrique."

* * *

"You know, when you make bets, you can't make those things happen." Robert said to the Scottish boy as Johnny entered the living room, looking smug. "It's a simple thing called cheating."

"Me? Cheat? I have not! I'm just… helping things along."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe… but do tell me something."

"Huh? What?"

"How did you know about 'Enrique's tickling mood'?"

"Oh…"

**_Flashback_**

A younger Robert and Johnny stood in a slightly busy town square; Johnny was twelve and Robert fourteen. They had known each other for just over a year now (but that didn't mean they got on like best buddies…). They were here, in France, to meet the French and Italian Champion. Reason: there was none.

Both boys had heard about the other two European champions through the media, one way or another, and had thought them good opponents (as you do when watching TV…).

"Hey, excuse me? Are you Robert and Johnny?" A voice asked behind them.

They both turned round to see a kid with green hair.

"Oh, yeah. Can we help you, miss?" Johnny asked.

The kid glared with purple eyes. "Who you calling 'miss'!"

"Wow, you're a guy?"

"I found that offensive."

"Sorry, it's just you do look like-"

"Johnny, shut up." Robert interrupted. He turned to the green haired boy. "Yes, that's us. And you are…"

"Oliver Polanski. French Champion." He frowned. "So you are Robert." He turned to Johnny, still glaring at the Scot. "And you are… Johnny."

"I said sorry for the 'miss' comment…" Johnny muttered under his breath.

"So now we have to wait for the Italian." Robert said to Oliver.

Oliver frowned once again and looked around him. "He was with me a second ago…" He caught sight of a group of almost-screaming girls. "Oh great…" He mumbled. He turned to Robert and Johnny. "One moment, please."

"Strange boy…" Johnny said as the two watched Oliver walk over to the group of girls and disappear within.

"Well, at least you know he's a boy now. You offended him with the 'miss' comment."

"I said sorry! But you have to admit, he does look a little girly…"

"That I will admit now, but you didn't have to go on about it."

"You're just covering up for yourself." Johnny shot back. "I bet if you had spoken first, you would've said the same thing."

"Quiet, he's coming back…" He paused, taking in the sight of Oliver dragging a blonde boy away from the girls by the ear. "With someone else."

"Do you think it's the Italian guy?"

"Most probably." Robert murmured as Oliver stopped in front of them, letting go of the blonde's ear.

"This is…" Oliver began, nudging the blonde in the ribs, who was rubbing his ear.

"That really hurt, Oli." He muttered; he obviously hadn't heard Oliver.

"I don't care. We were supposed to meet Robert and Johnny over ten minutes ago and we were late because of you and your infatuation over girls."

"Fine, I get your point." The blonde muttered. He turned to the two other boys. "Enrique Giancarlo. Italy." He said, still rubbing his ear.

"My name's Robert and this is Johnny." Robert said, with a small smile.

"Bastard boy…" Oliver muttered when Robert said Johnny's name.

"I said sorry!" Johnny literally yelled. "How many times do I have to say it? But seriously, you look a little girly…"

"May be you should get some glasses." Oliver retorted. "Because everyone else seems to realise I'm a boy, not a girl. Oh and get a hearing aid, because I **do not** sound like a girl. And while you're at it; go learn which names are boys' and which are girls' because 'Oliver' is certainly not a girls' name. Maybe from where you come from, but not in France."

"Alright, don't get your knickers in a twist!"

"Watch it, Salaud-garçon."

"Wait, hold up. Will you stop it with the 'bastard-boy'? Even in French it's annoying." Johnny said; Robert and Enrique just stood on the sidelines.

"Yeah, well, so are you, but I don't go around saying it."

"Okay then! Let's wrap this thing up!" Enrique intervened, stepping in between the French and Scot.

"I agree." Robert added. "Now, shall we…?"

"Fine." Oliver replied, following Robert.

"Why're you so anxious to get this over and done with?" Johnny asked Enrique.

"Well, I have a date with Bianca and Rosetta in an hour and I can't miss them!"

* * *

"Finally, you're back…" Johnny muttered as Enrique walked into the foyer of the hotel.

"What? That was only a nine hour date!" Enrique exclaimed, walking over.

"'Only'? Where'd you go anyway?" Johnny asked as they walked towards a hallway and down it.

"Nearly everywhere, I think. So where are Oli and Rob?"

"Don't call Robert that in front of him; he hates it."

"Oh, okay."

"But they're… wait… why should I tell you?"

"Because." Enrique replied.

"Because what?"

"Because Oliver's my friend and I always tell him about my dates and this won't be an exception, just because you're here."

"Not telling." Johnny smirked, but it faltered when Enrique smirked too. "What's with the smirk- ah! N-No! St-Stop! Ah, no t-that tick-ah st-stop! No!"

"Now tell me where Rob and Oli are!" Enrique said, still tickling the Scottish boy.

"T-Training Room! Ah-stop –ticklin me!" He sighed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, shall we go meet Robert and Oli?"

**_End Flashback_**

"No reason…" Johnny said, jolting back to the present. "I… just heard about it, that's all. From Oliver, I think."

"Oh, okay. But still, I'm not handing over that thousand Euro."

"What? Why?"

"Because you intervened."

"Oh fine. What about if you give me five hundred and we'll be square."

"Tomorrow, Johnny. They haven't actually slept yet."

"Yet…"

* * *

A/N- Gods, that flashback was fun to write… it inspires me to rite a one-shot about how the Majestics met fully (like Robert and Johnny and Oli and Enri)… any agreements?

**Anywho, review! (and say if you think I should rite that one-shot!)**


	9. Chapter 9

"Well, I'm going to bed now…" Oliver muttered, with a small yawn, as he started to walk away slowly.

"I'll hit the sack in a lil while, Oli, so don't worry bout me." Enrique replied, watching his friend walk away in the corner of his eye.

"Refer to my bed as a sack again and you will be sleeping in a sack from now on, Enrique." Oliver raised an eyebrow and threw a humoured glare over his shoulder at the Italian before walking into the room and out of sight.

Enrique chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head sadly. _'Typical Oli…'_

He stared out at the lit up city below and before him, a small smile etched onto his tanned face.

'_Now I know why Oli wanted to stay here…'_ He muttered. _'It's so pretty… not like Rome… I mean, yeah that's a beautiful place, but only in the day…'_

The slamming of a door sounded and Enrique spun around just in time to see Oliver dart outside onto the balcony and slam the doors shut, before slamming the wooden panels over them.

"Oli? What's wrong? Did you Johnny come in while you were changing?" Enrique asking, noting the fact that Oliver was still in his joggers but he had a loose, unbuttoned white shirt on his top half. Oliver shook his head numbly and Enrique frowning, seeing Oliver's face pale slowly. "Oli? What's wrong?"

"Stupid kid. He's locked the doors." A voice drifted through.

Enrique's eyes widened. "Oli? What's going on?"

"They…" he swallowed. "I don't know…" He managed to say. "But… I think… I think they want to… kill me…" He said in a quiet tone. "They have g-guns and everything…"

The men behind the door banged something heavy into the door and Oliver was pushed away, falling into Enrique's arms. Enrique could feel the French boy shaking. He backed up slowly until his back hit the balcony banister, bringing Oliver with him.

The banging on the door continued. Enrique bit his lip, trying to figure out what to do, while holding Oliver in a tight hold…

"Pst! Enrique!"

Enrique turned his head down to the ground to see Johnny and Robert standing below in the grounds.

"Guys!" Enrique whispered back (but loud enough for the other two to hear). But the banging on the doors became more persistent, louder and heavier; and the splitting of wood didn't help, either. The Italian turned to Oliver. "We're jumping."

"What?" Oliver stared at him with wide purple eyes. "Are you crazy? We're on the second floor! That's over twelve feet!"

"It's the only way." Enrique said seriously. "We'll make it Oli, trust me."

"Fine… it's better than being so filled with lead that they could sharpen us and call us a pencil anyday." Oliver muttered and he followed Enrique towards the creepers that grew on the wall. "But I won't be able to jump that. You may be able to, but definitely not me, Enri."

"Fine, just hold onto me then."

Oliver did as he said, looping his arms around the Italian's neck._ 'This is pure lunacy…' _he thought as Enrique put one foot on the stone banister and wrapped an arm around the French boy's waist tightly.

"Three…"

_Bang!_

"Two…"

_**Bang!**_

"One…"

_**Crack!**_

"Go!"

Enrique launched them off the balcony, sending them speeding towards the ground due to the force of gravity. But when they were nearly at the ground, Enrique grabbed a creeper, slowing their fall quite dramatically. They hit the ground, somehow managing to land on their feet and not break any bones/sprain any muscles. Oliver immediately grabbed Enrique's wrist and dragged him away from the house, and towards a shocked Johnny and Robert.

"How the-"

"Move!" Robert ordered, having overcome his shock faster than Johnny. The two other teens ran just as Oliver and Enrique caught up. They ran, shouts from the men echoing in the grounds; but soon they faded away as the teens entered the downtown district. The teens kept running even after the voices were gone.

But soon, of course, they did stop, panting heavily.

"Oh, jeez…" Enrique muttered after a while.

"What?" Johnny asked breathlessly, bending over, resting on his knees. But when he looked up, he caught sight of the problem; Enrique's hand was bleeding. "Oh man…"

But Oliver was already there. "That's what happens when you jump off a balcony twelve feet in the air and grab a thorny vine on the way down." He said, while wrapping a piece of white cloth (most likely from his short) around Enrique's bleeding palm and tying it securely. "But, thank you. You saved my life."

"Yes, he did." Robert agreed, still a little breathless. "There was no other way of getting down from that balcony without going through those mysterious men."

"How'd you get out?" Enrique asked, hand clenched around the makeshift bandage.

"We heard a maid scream and Oliver's butler came in telling us to get out." Johnny explained and smirked straight after. "Well, speak of the devil."

A blacked out Hummer drove towards them and stopped beside them. The front passenger window opened and the kind face of Oliver's butler, Pierre, appeared.

"Sirs," He addressed them, the back doors clicking open. The four boys clambered in, sitting in the quite classy vehicle. "I trust we are all okay?"

"Well, Enrique has a bleeding hand, but apart from that-"

"Totally exhausted." Johnny interrupted Oliver, whom frowned.

"Fine." Oliver admitted. "In the wise words of Jonathon McGregor, 'totally exhausted'; we need a place to go. But Pierre," The elderly butler looked at the young French heir, "I want answers before I rest. And I want the truth."

* * *

A/N- So, someone wants Oliver dead, so they? (grins) I'm so kind to mah characters, aren't I? But why do they want him dead? AND WILL ENRIQUE AND OLIVER EVER GET A FLUFFY MOMENT?

Anywho, review!


	10. Chapter 10

"So, what the hell is going on?" Johnny demanded as soon as Oliver stepped into the grand hotel room, wearing clothes a little bit more fitting for the young heir.

Oliver shook his head sadly and walked over to the couch, automatically sitting in Enrique's lap. "I don't know…" He muttered, leaning his head against Enrique's shoulder and somewhat burying his face into the Italian's neck. "All I know is that my house is no longer my house."

"What do you mean?" Johnny asked, vaulting the back of the couch somewhat gracefully and bouncing a little when he sat on the pillows. Robert took the more formal way of sitting down; sitting down by the means of bending your legs.

"Those men have taken over it." Oliver replied with a small sigh. "So we have to stay here until they're booted out."

"Oh joy…" Johnny remarked rather sarcastically.

"What about your dad, Oli?" Enrique asked.

"He was at the restaurant; where else?" There was a bitter tone to Oliver's voice and all three other occupants heard it clearly; eyebrows were raised, though the French boy couldn't see them, his vision blocked because of Enrique's neck. "Sorry." He sighed.

"No need to apologise, Oliver." Robert replied. "All of this has made us all rather stressed and you bear the full load of it, unfortunately."

"Yeah, but we'll be here to help, right guys?" Enrique said.

"Sure." Johnny agreed, Robert nodding.

"Thank you." The bitter tone had gone completely and the three Majestics could hear a rather happy tone now. "Some reunion, huh?"

"Yeah, it was a blast. We should do it again sometime." Johnny laughed.

"Are you ever _never_ sarcastic?" Enrique asked, still holding Oliver on his lap.

"Who said I was being sarcastic, Giancarlo?" Johnny smirked. "But seriously, Oliver, no one's gunna get to you while we're here."

"You make it sound like a sappy soap opera…" Oliver mumbled, a smirk playing on his lips. "But thank you again…" He sighed and stood up, walking over to a white door. "I'm going to bed. And Johnny? No more locking Enrique in my room." With that, he was gone.

"I knew it…" Robert whispered under his breath and watched Enrique stand as well.

"Hell, same." Enrique said, walking to the door next to Oliver's and, after muttering a "G'night…", disappeared into the room.

"Looks like someone owes me five hundred Euros."

"Oh Piddlesworth!" Johnny cursed.

* * *

Purple eyes opened blearily, blinking and trying to gain their bearings. Sitting up and brushing stray bangs of green hair away from his eyes, Oliver yawned, stretching his arms out and hearing them pop; his back too. He sat there, legs half crossed in front of him and arms placed over the covers lazily as he stared out the open window. The slightly transparent, white curtains flapped around in the calm breeze that fluttered through the large window. Outside, birds twittered and flew about and the Parisian people were going about their daily regimes like normal. 

Oliver rubbed his eyes once more, yawned again and was just deciding what he was going to try to do today when he spotted a brown paper bag perched expertly at the end of his bed.

He frowned as he crawled up to it, grabbed it and sat back, kneeling with the paper bag in his hands. He looked in and brought out the first object; a long, blue and white jacket. Not like his old one, though. This one was mostly white, but the shoulders, collar and along the top half of the arms were blue. He picked out a blue beret; an orange rimmed yellow t-shirt; a brown belt; red fingerless gloves and orange pants.

He frowned, looking at them as they lay on the bed. He wondered where they had come from until he saw a little note tucked into the pocket of the jacket, poking out just far enough for him to see. He tugged it out:

_Dear Master Oliver,_

_I thought you might like some proper clothing. Since we can't get back your old clothing, I brought you some new clothes. I hope you like them; your friends have some new clothes too. Don't want you all running around wearing dirty clothing, now, do we?_

_Signed_

_Pierre_

Oliver smiled and folded up the small note. He had always trusted his butler. The now-elderly man had technically raised the French boy; his mother died due to post-natal depression and his father was always at the restaurant. That's another reason why he hated that place; if his father had spent more time at home instead of the restaurant, his mother just might still be alive…

'_Oh well, I can't dwell on the past…'_ he thought with a sigh.

He climbed off the bed and headed to the small washroom, carrying his clothes neatly in a pile…

* * *

He emerged half an hour later, clean and clothed. His looked down at his clothing and smiled; he quite liked it. And that wasn't all that had changed. 

He had changed his hair too. By snipping his fringe slightly and brushing it downwards, rather than to the side, it suited the clothing he wore now. He walked over to the open window and leant against the 'sill, gazing out over the downtown district of Paris. It wasn't as luxurious as the uptown district (hence that's why Oliver lived uptown) but it was still quite pretty.

He looked over at the clock later on, to find it just after ten; he had been staring out the window for fifteen minutes! Oh well… he sighed and pushed himself of the edge of the window, wandering over to the door. Opening it, he found a sight he never thought he'd see.

Both Johnny and Robert were still in the main room, but that wasn't the strange, almost cute, sight. Robert was still sitting up, yet asleep and Johnny was lying on his side, head in Robert's lap as they both slept peacefully. Oliver felt like "Awww!" ing and giggling like a crazed schoolgirl, but he didn't. He just stood there, shaking his head sadly and staking in the scene before him… planning _his_ teasing on the hot head.

But a few minutes later, Enrique's door opened and he started to walk out mumbling about something. Oliver cursed under his breath and ran to the blonde's door, shoved him back in, ran in himself, shut the door and held a gloved hand over Enrique's mouth.

Enrique gave him a look that said, 'Listen-if-you-wanted-to-jump-me-you-only-had-to-ask' but Oliver shushed him and pointed at the door to the main room. Enrique frowned confusedly but nodded; Oliver took away his hand.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Oliver smirked. "Take a look for yourself. Just don't make a sound."

He opened the door a crack and both teens peeked out. Enrique's eyes widened and he went to open his mouth, but Oliver shoved him back in the room again, covering his mouth once more.

"I thought I told you not to make a sound!" He whispered.

"I didn't!" Enrique mumbled around Oliver's palm.

"We can't wake them." Oliver said taking his hand away; he smiled as Enrique raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on, admit it. They do look like a cute couple."

"Robert and Johnny-boy?" Enrique scoffed; he giggled quietly.

Oliver frowned and turned his back on the snickering blonde. "Fine. I guess that means no hugs from me to you then."

Enrique stopped immediately. "Oh come on, Oli! I was only joking." He smirked evilly. "Fine, but…" He spun Oliver around, "… you didn't say anything about kisses."

He pulled the French boy even closer, placing his lips over Oliver's swiftly. He heard the younger moan and he smirked against cherry-tasting lips, while wrapping his arms around Oliver's waist. He pulled away slowly, letting the kiss linger, and pressed his forehead against Oliver's.

"Nice…" He murmured.

Oliver smiled. "What's nice? The kiss or my new look?"

Enrique smiled too. "Both." He replied, his voice almost a whisper. His ran his fingers up the back of Oliver's neck and up into his hair, under his beret. "I like it… suits you even better than your old clothes…"

Oliver chuckled. "Seen your clothes yet?"

"Clothes?" Enrique was confused. "I got clothes too?"

"Yes. Pierre brought us all new clothes since we can't go back to my manor and get your own back."

"That was nice of him." Enrique commented. "So the two snuggle-buddies out there have new threads too?"

"Yes, I think so. It would be unfair if only you and I got new clothes and not them."

"I suppose." Enrique said, letting go of Oliver and walking over to a chair by the window, where a brown paper bag was sat.

Oliver pouted slightly when the Italian let go, taking away his warmth and scent that radiated off him. He watched Enrique wander off into the bathroom and the French boy sighed, walking out himself and into the main room. Johnny and Robert were still asleep and still in their positions.

"Wake up sleepy-heads." Oliver said as he walked past them, not stopping, on his way to the kitchen; though he did hear both wake with a start.

He smirked as he caught sight of the two blushing boys but carried on his way. He could just order breakfast for everyone, but he liked to cook; also, there was no knowing what was put into meals these days. He was rummaging through the cupboards when Johnny walked into the small kitchen and sat at the small table.

"Mornin' Oli…" He muttered, still a little red in the face.

"Bon matin, mon ami." Oliver replied as he placed slices of bread on the oven grill and slid it in. He turned round. "And do not worry; I won't speak of word of your sleeping arrangements last night."

Johnny's cheeks and bridge of his nose took a rosy tint. "So…er… new clothes, eh? And your hair; nice."

"Thank you, Johnny." Oliver said, turning round.

"Where'd you get them?"

"Pierre got them." Oliver said, cracking eggs over a saucepan. "He also got clothes for you, Robert and Enrique. Saves you from walking around in smelly garments."

"Oh, gee, that was nice of him."

"That's what Enrique said."

Johnny smirked evilly. "So, seen him this morning, have you?"

"What if I have?" Oliver said, looking at Johnny in the corner of his eye, his back turned to the Scottish boy. "And don't even try to make me embarrassed this way, Salaud-garçon," Johnny opened his mouth to protest about his now re-instated nickname, but Oliver carried on, "at least I admit to being in a relationship with a boy."

"Yeah, but you look like a girl, so there's no argument, is there?" Johnny muttered under his breath.

A vein pulsed in Oliver's brow. "Johnny?" He asked in a sweet voice.

"Yeah?"

"Shut your pie-hole unless you want boiling hot animal fat poured over your head." The green-haired boy turned around, eyes glinting. "Make one more comment about me looking feminine and that will happen, got it?"

"Got it."

"Right, now go change and freshen up."

"Yes…" Johnny sighed. "Mother Hen." He muttered when he got out of an earshot of the cooking expert.

* * *

A/N- Big note: I will not be able to update for at least a week. Reason? No, not writers block. I'm going on an exchange to Germany for a week. And no, I probably won't see Robert, though it would be nice… but I'm really sorry. I will hope to write a few chapters while there, but I'll then have to type them up and post them when I get back. Once again, sorry! 

Anyway, that is my way of explaining how the Majestics got their cool new Grev threads. I don't know the full extent of Oli and Enri's clothing (only the top half) because of two reasons: 1) they don't appear that much in Grev, 2) I watch the dubbed version, therefore i have only seen, like, a second-long clip of the two boys... /grumbles about dubbers/

Anywho, review!

P.S- if anyone wants to do some fanart for this fic, you're welcome to. Just send it to mah email address (look in mah profile) with your username and description. I can then post it on Deviantart and say it was done as a gift by you. Thankies!


	11. Chapter 11

Enrique emerged from the bathroom and stretched his arms out before placing them behind his head, lazily. He looked at his new clothes in the mirror hanging on the opposite end of the room and nodded. He had to admit; Oliver's butler did have a decent sense of style. He made his way over to the bedroom door.

'Just wait until the ladies see m-' 

He stopped dead; mentally and physically.

'_No…'_ He bit his lip uncertainly and slowly took his hand away from the doorknob. _'They… I…'_

"Oliver…"

* * *

"Hey, have you two seen Enrique?"

"Nope, sorry Oli. Haven't seen your _boyfriend_ anywhere." Johnny said before taking a sip of his tea.

Oliver's eyebrow twitched. "Just pray to God and hope that I haven't put laxative in there, Salaud-garçon." The French boy said, before turning round and walking towards the Italian's room.

Behind him, the Scottish boy pushed his mug away from him, not quite catching the amused look coming from the German.

* * *

"Enrique?" Oliver asked, peaking round the door. "Oh, there you are. You… Enrique?" He frowned at the Italian's thoughtful expression as he perched on the windowsill. "Enrique? You okay?"

"Yeah…" Came the small, almost whispered, reply from Enrique as he continued to stare out of the window. The blonde sighed and stood, walking over to Oliver with a peaceful smile. He embraced his green haired boyfriend in a hug. "I'm okay, Oli."

Oliver hugged back. "I was worried for a moment there."

"Nah, just thinking Oli."

"Precisely; that's a reason to be worried." Oliver said, a chuckle hidden in his voice.

"H-Hey!" Enrique pouted and pushed Oliver away slightly. "I may be blonde, Oli, and blonde's may have a reputation for being a little bit stupid at times; but that does not mean that whenever I think, you should be worried."

Oliver smiled and ruffled Enrique's hair fondly, before giving him a peck on the cheek and hugging him once more, burying his face in the Italian's orange collared, white shirt. Enrique wound his arms around Oliver as well, and placed his head on top of his friend's.

There was a quite long pause before Enrique broke the silence. "You know what, Oli?"

"What?" Oliver asked softly, his voice muffled by the Italian's chest.

"I've… I've never held a girl like this before… never held anyone like this before…"

Oliver raised his head, forcing Enrique to do the same. "There's a first for everything, you know…"

Enrique crushed his lips into Oliver's in a fierce kiss that left the younger's mind reeling. Oliver responded to the kiss eagerly, wrapping his arms around Enrique's neck and burying fingers in his golden hair. A long moan rose from the French boy's throat as Enrique drew the kisses out tenderly and sensually.

A cough sounded by the door, but all Enrique did was raise a finger to indicate one minute. He wound down the kiss slowly, even though he could hear impatient foot taps on the floor by the door. The blonde finally pulled away, letting the kiss linger as long as he could help it; he nuzzled Oliver's cheek before turning to the person by the door.

"What is it, Johnny-boy?" He asked, rather annoyed.

Johnny frowned. "When you two love birds have quite finished with your session of swapping spit, Robert wants to see us all."

They watched as Johnny left, closing the door a fraction before turning to one another. Enrique placed a long, chaste kiss on Oliver's lips.

"I guess we should go then…" Oliver whispered.

Enrique smirked. "No; Johnny said that when we'd finished our 'session', we have to go see Robert." His smirk increased. "And I ain't finished with you yet."

* * *

"What exactly did you say to them, Johnny?"

"I told them that when they had finished, they had to come and see you."

A pause. "You know that Enrique will take your words literally."

"…Oh hell."

* * *

A/N- I could hear you say 'FINALLY!' then! Hehe; yes, Enri and Oli have finally had a moment /Cheers/ but this chapter was a lil bit pointless, I'm sorry, but I didn't want you to have to wait until AFTER crimbo, so… yeah…

Anywho, review!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 - Anger management**

**A/N- just a few notes before we begin; 1) I'm sorry for the late update, I had writers block in this fic and then my area of became fucked up because of my stupid piece of fucked up scrap of metal I call a computer; 2) I'm sorry if anything in this fic doesn't follow the anime. Since I watch the dubbed version, all I know is the fact that Robert and Johnny turn up, telling Tyson that they had been forced out of the tournament by Barthez Battalion's dirty tricks. That's all I know. So, I'm taking this fic my way, thank you very much.**

"So what was it you wanted to talk to us about?"

"I'm not saying until those two get here; I'm not repeating myself for them."

"Come on, Robert! They won't be here until the next millennia! Just tell me and I can tell them."

Robert looked at the stubborn boy opposite him. They glared at each other.

"My, my, fighting already, are we?" Asked a voice, followed by tutting.

"Shut it, Giancarlo." Johnny muttered, breaking the gaze he had with the German to glare at Enrique.

Oliver, meanwhile, sat down next to Robert. "So, what was it you wanted to speak to us about?"

"The World Championships." Robert said simply.

Enrique came and sat down on one of the cushy armchairs. "But that isn't until… ages!"

"Nice accuracy…" Johnny muttered.

"Yes, but there seems to be another team wanting to represent Europe in the Worlds." Robert explained. "A team by the name of Barthez Battalion. Not sure where exactly they're from, but they're pretty tough."

"'Pretty tough' won't beat us, though." Johnny smirked. "These guys are probably just amateurs."

"Actually no." Oliver interjected, catching everyone's attention.

"How'd you know?" Enrique asked.

"I've heard from many people…" The French boy shrugged. "But correction, Johnny; 'These guys _and girl_ are probably just amateurs'. And they're quite good."

"Girl? They have a girl on their team?" Enrique grinned, earning a hurt look from Oliver, though he didn't catch it.

"So what about this team? Do we have to battle them or something?" Johnny asked.

"Correct." Robert nodded.

"So, training?"

"Correct again, Johnny. Luckily, this hotel has a private gym, so we can train without any distractions."

"Fine. If you want to train without distractions, then you better keep those two," he jerked his thumb at Enrique and Oliver, "away from each other; or put some blindfolds on them at least."

"That's it!"

"Uh," Oliver stuttered, sweatdrops forming on his and Robert's heads as they watched the Scottish and Italian boys wrestle, "does that class as a distraction?"

"Indeed it does."

* * *

The Majestics had managed to get some good training in, though. Johnny had toned down on his tauntings of Oliver and Enrique's relationship; Enrique had an inkling it was down to Robert, though, and not the near tournament.

Oliver had thankfully been allowed to compete; the permission given by his father. Though his dear old father's words echoed still in his head…

_"Oliver my boy, beyblading isn't going to get you a million Euros in one day; running a globally-known restaurant will. But since that attack on our mansion, it isn't safe for you here, so you can go. But when you're finished at the tournament, you come straight back and you're going to be partly owning this establishment. And that means if you're knocked out of the tournament, you come back. If you win, you come back after the world championship. If you're disqualified, you come back straight away. I don't care about this stupid sport with spinning tops, Oliver. I care about the restaurant; your mother would want you to take over."_

Ah yes. His mother would want it. His father often used this line on the French teen when the elder Polanski wanted Oliver to do something, since Oliver had never known his mother; she had died in childbirth… during _his_ birth. He had only heard what she had been like from Pierre and only knew what she looked like from photographs.

Even he had to admit that he was just like his mother and not much like his father; green hair as light as summer fields, lilac eyes so sparkling they were like gems, petit frame, love of art and all things beautiful, graceful in everything they did and… the desire to be free.

He knew that this was his mother's most wanted thing; to be free. Not to run a restaurant.

He didn't like to think of these things usually. It brought up raw and powerful anger and hatred against his father because he used her as an excuse…

But as he thought of these things, he was sitting on a cushy armchair in the locker room, only half listening to the large TV that was mounted on the wall. His teammates were in there too, them being the ones watching the news report and commenting once in a while. This locker room was in the large stadium in London.

"Hey Oli? Are you awake?"

Oliver opened one lilac eye to stare at the blonde. "Nah…" He muttered sarcastically.

"Sorry." Enrique pouted. "You okay? Nervous?"

"No." And he resumed his original pose; eyes closed, arms folded across his chest and one leg resting one the other.

"You know, it's okay to be nervous." Enrique continued. The French boy could feel Robert and Johnny looking at him now.

"I'm not nervous, Enrique."

"You sure? Cos I mean, you're acting like you're nervous and scared, but it's okay, cos-"

That did it.

"I'm not nervous, okay? Nor scared!" Oliver snapped, standing sharply, his lilac orbs turning an almost deep purple in rage. "Just leave me alone, okay? And stop pestering me!"

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked quickly but moodily down the hallway of the stadium. When he was sure there was quite a long distance between him and the locker room, he stopped; also making sure that the hallway was abandoned.

He leant against the wall and slid down, hugging his knees to his chest, eyes still darker than they usually were. He sighed and shut them.

He shouldn't have snapped at Enrique; he was only helping. But the anger with his father had taken over him… that's why he didn't like to think about his parents…

No, he loved to think about his mother. Whenever he had spare time to himself, he would think about her… try to imagine what she was like before he was born… what it would be like if she hadn't died…

But it wasn't that type of thing that when he thought of her, he cried; he'd only cried once in the past… must've been at least a good couple of years (and Robert just had to find him, didn't he?).

But… He sighed once more…

"Hey, mister? Are you okay?" Asked a girl.

He looked up, surprised, to see a girl with pale, bubblegum-pink hair, with goggles on her head. She wore green shorts, a yellow t-shirt with a short, white and orange waistcoat over the top; deep blue, long gloves and over the knee socks with white and black boots added to her outfit. She smiled, her pink eyes sparkling.

"You okay?" She repeated in a girlish voice.

He smiled reassuringly and nodded, stretching out one leg. "Yeah… just thinking…"

She came and sat next to him. "About what?" She slapped her hands over he mouth; Oliver looked at her oddly. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. Ignore me. I'm so nosey."

Oliver laughed. "I don't mind. It would be nice to talk to someone apart from my team for once."

"Your team?"

"Yeah."

"Wait… green hair… lilac eyes… boyish, French looks… you're Oliver aren't you? From the Majestics?" Oliver nodded. "Ah… I'm Mathilda."

Oliver smiled. "I know who you are, don't worry." He sighed. "But I guess it isn't that good us talking if we're on opposing teams."

"I suppose, but I doesn't matter." Mathilda shrugged. "Hey, no offence, but I heard all you Majestics are snobbish and way too proud; you're an alright guy."

"That's what most people think; that we've got sticks shoved up our behinds." Oliver said with a chuckle and shake of his head. "But we're not like that. If you knew us that well, you'd know that. We're just like all teens; we have girlfriend problems (_'Yeah right,' _he thought, _'more like boyfriend problems'_), have silly bickerings… we just have a little bit more money at our disposal than others…"

Mathilda giggled, but it was cut off by the calling of her name.

"Mathilda." They both looked down the hallway to see a tanned blonde teen, glaring at them. "The matches are about to start. Get over here now!"

"There you are Oli!" Oliver looked down the opposite end to his own team there. He held up a hand to keep them silent. He stood up. "I guess you're her teammate." He said to the blonde teen.

"What if I am?" The boy replied calmly.

"If you are, then that's no way to treat one of your teammates is it?" Oliver said coolly. "Let alone a female."

"I think I'll decide who I treat well and badly, thank you."

Oliver shrugged and held his palms up defensively. "I'm not telling you how to treat people, kid. All I'm doing is advising you."

"Well, I don't need your advice. Let alone from the enemy." The blonde snapped back. Mathilda hurried to his side. "I know all about the crap you preach; friendship, teamwork, support from others. And let me tell you this; it don't work. None of it. And all this stuff about honour." He snorted. "You wouldn't have to do that if you were actually good at beyblading that you never lost."

Oliver shook his head sadly and turned away from the blonde and Mathilda.

"Don't you turn your back on me!"

Oliver stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder. "I think I have a say on who I turn my back on and who I don't, thank you very much."

There was a whiz of a blade and a, "Lookout Oliver!" from Johnny. Oliver turned just in time to see a yellow beyblade fly past him; it slashed his forearm, though it was a small cut, only trickling one drop of blood. He clasped a hand over the small wound and glared at the blonde boy; though he somehow knew it wasn't his blade.

A dark skinned boy with dreadlocks walked into view, standing behind Mathilda, and then a grey haired, slim boy after that. A man with greasy, dark purple hair followed after that.

"Now, now Aaron, is that a good impression?" Though the smirk gave away the fact that he had ordered whoever Aaron was to attack Oliver; it turned out to be the chubby, dark skinned boy, because he called the yellow beyblade back to his hand. His expression suddenly turned serious. "Come on, boys. Let's get to the arena."

The Majestics watched the other team leave, Mathilda sparing an apologising smile at Oliver, before running after her team.

Enrique ran up to Oliver. "Oli? Are you okay?"

Oliver sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay." He turned to his blonde teammate and wrapped his arms around his torso, burying his face in his neck. "Sorry," He apologised, "for shouting at you. I didn't mean it."

"Nah, it's okay, Oli." Enrique said with a chuckle, hugging back. "You've got a lot on your mind at the moment."

"Indeed you do." Robert said, also standing next to the two; Johnny as well. "Do you think you're fit to battle, Oliver?"

Oliver moved away from Enrique and looked Robert in the eye. "Yes, I'm sure. But now I have more reason to fight them. No one fights unfairly while I'm around; especially when they're fighting me."

**A/N- Ya, go Oli! Go Oli! Go Oli! You tell 'em! Sorry for the late update. I have that stupid and weird bug back in my area of why won't it go away! I killed you less than two days ago/Smushes bug once more but it won't die/ Goddamnit! **

**Anywho, review!**


	13. Chapter 13

MAH AREA IS WORKING! YAYAYAYAYAY! Sorry, got carried away... right, so here's the next chappie. BIG BIG thankies to Demenior everyone for helping me through this tough time of not having answer questions: Yes, i have made Miguel a jerk in this fic. It's not the fact that i hate (the bastard) but i just need a bad blader in this fic; and i love Johnny too much to make him the bad guy ;)

* * *

"Enrique, maybe you should go see the doctor." Johnny said to the blonde, who was holding a piece of cloth up against a cut on his cheek.

But this wasn't an accidental cut. This had been inflicted upon the Italian on purpose. It had been during his match against Aaron; the dark skinned blader's bit beast had 'accidentally' clipped the blonde's cheek. Enrique was sure that if Amphilyon hadn't attacked Rushing Boar at the right time, he would've had way more than a cut cheek.

"No. I'm not going anywhere until I see Oli kick some butt." Enrique replied stubbornly, watching the said French teen walk up to the dish. "We may've lost our other matches, meaning we're not in the tournament, but I need to see us get at least one victory; and I want to be there for Oli."

Indeed, they had lost their other matches. Johnny had lost his against the grey haired blader, Claude, and Enrique had lost his against Aaron; though they smelt something fishy… and we're not talking about Enrique's apple crumble. Even though Johnny had got away unscathed, he could've sustained some pretty bad injuries; just like Amphilyon had saved Enrique, Salamalyon had protected Johnny.

They watched the blonde blader walk up to the dish too. The wind blew by, brushing through their hair, Oliver's long coat swaying in the Earth's breath.

"Bladers ready?" Jazzman roared.

"When did he get here?" Johnny asked. "He wasn't here for our matches."

"Sorry, kid. I had to do another tournament and it overlapped." Jazzman apologised to Johnny. "Right, so shall we get this final battle underway then? The Majestics have been defeated in the first two matches meaning that Barthez Battalion are through to the World Championships, but Oliver looks determined to get some honour for his teammates."

"I hear you, Jazz."

"And I agree with AJ. Oliver may look like a simple pretty boy, but he's one not to tango with."

"Yeah, and it's the same with his bit beast Unicolyon! A fairytale creature on the outside, but one strong beast on the inside. We haven't seen much from him in a long time, but we're most likely in for a show."

"Alright bladers! Three… two… one…"

"Let it rip!" The two teens yelled, letting loose their beyblades.

"Finish him, Miguel. We don't have time for a long match." The man with dark purple hair commanded from the bench.

The blonde nodded and went crashing straight into Oliver's blade. The French's blade stumbled back but held its ground as best as it could; Unicolyon began to push back.

"You think you're the best, don't you?" The blonde, Miguel, asked him. "You think you can order me around on how to treat my teammates and such. Then you come up and battle me. Your team's lost, Polanski! What's the point in battling me? It'll do nothing but embarrass you further!"

"Oh, this won't embarrass me or my teammates, Miguel." Oliver replied. "And there is a point to this battle. Once I beat you, it'll show that us Majestics aren't going to be pushed around by any_one_, any_way_, any_where_ and any_how_. And it's to show you that cheating doesn't always ensure victory."

"Cheating? Why you-"

A bright light erupted from Miguel's beyblade and a black and purple winged creature appeared; it looked just like the gargoyles on Notre Dame.

"Dark Gargoyle! Attack!"

The gargoyle-like creature went crashing into Oliver beyblade, making it fly, but the French teen managed to control his beyblade and it landed on the edge. Though that wasn't the least of his problems; a huge cracking sound was heard and a piece of the dish flew out, catching Oliver once again on his forearm. He hissed in pain, gritting his teeth.

"That was on purpose!" Johnny yelled, though it was unheard.

"Unicolyon! Come on out!"

A bright light erupted from Oliver's blade this time. It morphed into the magnificent unicorn, its magenta mane flowing in the breeze.

"A unicorn? You've got to be kidding me!" Miguel laughed. "I bet that pony won't even give Dark Gargoyle a paper cut with that ice cream cone of a horn!"

Oliver gritted his teeth, the anger bubbling inside of him. Insult his bit beast, eh? Oh, he was in trouble now…

"Unicolyon! Show your true form NOW!"

"T-True form?" Enrique stuttered, Johnny and Robert in shock. "That's not Unicolyon's true form?"

The white unicorn gave a cry before it glowed fiercely. Everyone in the stadium was forced to cover their eyes at the intense light; only Jazzman could look.

"It-It's amazing!" He yelled, thanking himself silently that he had remembered to put his sunglasses on today… though he wasn't sure about the underwear… "It looks like Unicolyon is… morphing!"

When the light faded, everyone looked back. Gasps echoed around the stadium. Before them, standing right next to Oliver, was Unicolyon; yet it looked way different. Its coat was so white that when it caught the light, it shone sliver; the once magenta mane and tail was a green as light as a summer field; its hooves and horn were a deep, pure gold; the markings on its body were now a pale lilac and… it now had wings like an angel, which were curved around Oliver, protecting him.

"Don't you dare insult her." Oliver hissed, watching Miguel take a step back. "Insult her one more time, and you'll get it." He smirked. "But you're getting it anyway, so what's the point in threatening? Unicolyon, go!"

Miguel snapped out of it and gritted his teeth as he watched the winged unicorn fly towards him. "Dark Gargoyle! Go!"

The two bit beasts collided, sending shock waves everywhere. Miguel suddenly smirked and urged his beast on more, meaning more shock waves careered off them. Another piece of rubble split away from the beydish, catching Oliver on the shoulder, also scraping his neck.

This seemed to enrage Unicolyon, because the unicorn suddenly reared. A ball of energy suddenly appeared in its mouth, before it sent it hurtling towards Dark Gargoyle. Dust and dirt was sent everywhere, creating a sandstorm, masking the two bladers from view.

It slowly dissipated and Jazzman beamed. "And the winner is… Oliver!" The audience screamed with applause and whistles. "But… hey! Where is Oliver!"

"What does he mean?" Robert asked.

The dust broke away more and they saw, indeed, that the French boy was no longer there; only Miguel, his stopped blade and the still spinning Unicolyon.

"Wait! No! Oli!" Enrique suddenly exclaimed, running forward to the still body of his boyfriend. "Oli! Wake up!"

"Oh my! Someone call a doctor!" Jazzman yelled.

Robert and Johnny raced towards their two teammates as well. Robert frowned. "It must have been one hell of a blast. He fell all the way off the stage to here. Johnny," the Scottish boy looked sharply at him, "grab Oliver's blade."

Johnny nodded and stood, walking up to raised dish and scooping Unicolyon up into his hand. He glanced at the bit chip and saw that Unicolyon's original picture wasn't there; only her 'true form'. Before he left, he spared a glare at Barthez Battalion.

Rushing back to the fallen teen, he pocketed the pink blade and bit his lip worriedly. Yes, this was uncharacteristic of him… to worry about the French boy, but he'd never seen Oliver fight like that for just mere honour; let alone get hurt for it.

By the time he reached the others, Oliver was being placed on the stretcher and being wheeled away. He placed a reassuring hand on Enrique's shoulder and smiled.

"He'll be okay, Enrique. He's Oliver! Now come on; let's go and make sure he's okay."

Robert smiled as well and nodded, putting an arm around the blonde's shoulders and leading him through the tunnel.

* * *

A/N- Oh noes! I hurt mah Oli-baby/hits self over the head/ naughty Demi-goddess! Naughty girl! But yeah, I totally went off on my own, there. I know there was something about a tag-team thing in the actual anime and I think Rob and Oli fought together, but… MAH FIC! MAH RULES! (and it rules okay)

Anywho, review!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N- sorry bout teh late update... one of mah other fics (The Draconian Guardians... GO READ IT!) got messed up and i had to rearrange ALL the chapters so that the story made sense once more... sorry again...

* * *

Enrique stared sadly out the window of the Queen Mother's hospital in London. He was sat on a chair by the window of Oliver's hospital room; had been for some time.

His teammates had given up on coaxing him to go back to the hotel. He wouldn't leave Oliver and that was final. He was sure that Oliver could somehow sense he was here, and he knew Oliver needed him.

Nearby, the said French boy lay in the white hospital bed. Various drips were connected to him, a breathing and heart monitor also attached to him too. His forearm, shoulder, neck and head were bandaged; all the wounds having been inflicted upon him during his match against Miguel.

"Enrique…" The calm voice of his captain said softly to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. You need rest."

Robert was actually expecting Enrique not to move, but the blonde stood and began to walk out.

"Contact me if something happens…" He murmured, sparing one last look before leaving.

Johnny sighed and moved over Oliver, placing the pink blade on the bedside table and absentmindedly brushing a few strands of green hair out of the French boy's face.

"I've never seen Enrique this sad before." Johnny commented, looking over at Robert who was standing by the window. "Never ever. I always thought the bastard didn't have a heart…"

"Everyone has a heart, Johnny." Robert replied. "It is just that many don't realise it." He gave a small smile. "Just like you never realised you respected Oliver this much."

"Oh, shut up, you smartarse." Johnny retorted, slumping in the bedside chair. "So what's happening? We going to warn Tyson or-?"

"Johnny, we can't just leave-"

"Well, Enrique can stay and-"

"So are you."

"What?" Johnny shot out of his chair and marched over to the German noble. "I ain't staying here. If you're going, I am."

"Someone needs to look after them."

"Nah ah, I am not being left alone with two guys that can't keep their fingers, not to mention mouths, off each other. Need I repeat; if you're going, I am."

Robert chuckled, a smile on his face. "You know, you always find a way to lighten a situation; whether it's done purposely or accidentally, I don't know."

"Does it matter? Now, tell me that I'm going with you."

Robert smirked and leant in. "…" He paused. "No."

Johnny growled and turned his back on his captain. "God! You infuriate me so much!" She shot a glare over his shoulder. "You are a complete and utter arse, do you know that?"

Robert chuckled again and walked past him. "Now that's the good, old Johnny."

"What do you-" He paused for a mere second. He frowned. "You planned that all along, didn't you?"

"I needed to get you back to your old self… Jonathon."

"Oh for Pete's sake!" Johnny howled as he followed Robert out the door; he shut the door behind him, and, even with it closed, one could still hear the Scottish boy's voice- "I'm surprised you don't have, 'I'm an arse; kick me' written on your forehead, you bastard!"

* * *

I love Johnny, really... But Oli first... hmmmm...

1) Oliver  
2) Johnny  
3) Enrique & Robert (since no one shall be last!)

BUT I LOVE THEM ALL SOOO MUCH! all equally, but if i had to make a list like that, it would look like that... i'm torn between Enrique and Robert... hence there not being a fourth as well as the reason supplied!

**Who's your fav Majestic?**

Anywho, review!


	15. Chapter 15

**Note: chapter is later than it should've been because mah internet died... for the umpteenth time that day**

A/N- sorry if this isn't up to mah standard… I was verbally abused at work today by a customer (I was called racist, stupid, etc) and I'm badly shaken from it cos she was literally shaking the building with her screaming… again, I bow at your feet and bed forgiveness if you readers don't like it…

* * *

It was lunchtime in London; it being around the time of one o'clock GMT. Many of the Londoners were flocking about the streets, most walking from work for a while to look for a peaceful café for a bite to eat or to find a nearby bar.

But there were two teens who were walking towards a particular place; a hospital. They were heading to visit their friend, and teammate, who had been unfairly injured in a recent bey fight.

Many people recognised Robert Jurgen and Johnny McGregor of the Majestics, but the two ignored the public; Oliver was more important. (A/N- /cough/ yeah right… we're just not good enough for you upper classers)

They talked, sometimes laughing softly… one of them getting rather angry at points…

They entered the private hospital entrance hall, making their way towards another door opposite to them. It led to a large, peaceful, grassy and light courtyard, built for those patients who could move about and needed to get away. Their friend's room was in another area of the building and this was the shortest way to his room.

But they stopped dead at something.

Nearby, under the thick sliver birch tree, sat Oliver; plus Enrique. Enrique sat behind Oliver, his back against the trunk and arms encircling the younger's waist, holding him to his frame. Oliver, dressed in simple joggers and t-shirt, had a peaceful smile upon his lips, his eyes closed as if savouring the moment of being with the blonde.

"Wha-? But… how?" Johnny stuttered. "He was unconscious less than a day ago with bad injuries!"

Robert had a thoughtful frown on his brow, though a smile on face was also present. "It doesn't matter… as long as they're okay; both of them." His smile increased for the merest of seconds before he turned to Johnny. "Come on; we have a flight to catch."

"'We'?" Johnny repeated as they walked back inside. "Oh so I'm coming along now am I?"

"Well, I could always cancel your ticket…"

"Oh shut up, arse."

* * *

"That may have been my eyes deceiving me, but I thought I just saw Robert and Johnny over there." Oliver murmured to Enrique.

Enrique smiled. "Most likely was. They said they'd come and check-up on you… I guess that it's better that I came to see you earlier, then, huh?"

Oliver chuckled lightly. "The look on your face when you came into my room was priceless, Enrique…"

"I wasn't expecting you to be awake so soon." Enrique replied with a pout, nuzzling Oliver's cheek.

"Still…" Oliver said in an almost whispered voice. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I should be saying that about you, Oli…" Enrique murmured, arms tightening their hold on the French teen. "For a few moments, I thought… thought that I was gunna lose you."

" 'Would never leave you, Enrique… never…" He smiled, but it turned into a sad one slowly, eyes glazing over as he lost focus.

"Oliver?" Enrique frowned slightly, turning the French's face towards him with a finger. He inhaled sharply when he saw tears in the younger's eyes. "Oliver…"

He pulled him against his chest, letting Oliver cry softly into his shirt. He rubbed Oliver's back, lightly kissing green hair.

"Oliver…" He whispered. "What's wrong? Please tell me…"

"My father…"

Those two words… if those two words were ever even muttered to Enrique, he felt his soul ablaze with rage. He swallowed, trying to steady himself… but he couldn't help it…

He pulled Oliver's face to his and into what might've been a bruising kiss if more pressure had been applied, full of as much passion as Enrique could give to the French teen. The kiss became one full of needy want, full of an emotion that neither Enrique nor Oliver had ever felt before.

The blonde pulled away, chest heaving to fill his lungs with deprived oxygen. He swallowed the lump in his throat and felt hot tears flow down his cheeks.

He bit his lip. "D-Don't be sad, Oli… He-He won't do anyth-thing to y-you… he can't take y-you f-from me… I… I love you."

"…I'm sorry, Enrique…"

Enrique's heart skipped a few beats…

"…For making you cry… I love you too."

Enrique bit his lip to stop him for crying out in strange joy. His eyes spilled more tears, but he furiously wiped them away.

"Look at us…" He said, laughing. "We're blubbing like babies…" He swallowed another lump that had surfaced in his throat.

Oliver replied with a soft, ghostly kiss. "Yeah, but we're together; crying like babies, as you so kindly put it."

Enrique smiled back and his eyes held a strange glint, standing out like the sun in a midday sky.

"We're going." He said simply, standing up and pulling Oliver up too.

"Going where?" Oliver asked, as he was pulled along to the building where his room was situated.

"You're coming back home; with me."

"To Italy?"

"Yup. Then your father can't find you and he won't be able to hurt you anymore."

As he said this, they entered the French's room, said French boy moving to his neatly piled clothing. Enrique dignifiedly turned his back to Oliver to let him change.

"Oli…" Enrique said with a sigh. "I… overheard what your dad said to you, and I'm really sorry for what he said; even though it's not technically my fault. But… this is the only way."

"I know." Replied a soft voice behind him. Arms were wrapped around the Italian's waist and he felt Oliver's head rest on his back. "And I thank you for it."

There was a moment of peaceful silence, until Enrique was forced to stop it.

"Come on, Oli. We better go. Your dad **must**'ve heard about you being in hospital so he'll be over very soo-"

"Master Polanski?" A nurse popped her head around the door. "Your father is here to see you. I'll send him up right-"

"Sorry, could you tell him I'll come to him?" Oliver asked politely. "I just need to finish talking to Enrique; I'll be down in five minutes."

The nurse nodded and disappeared. Enrique and Oliver shared a look before running out the door and down the corridor, away from the direction in which the nurse went.

* * *

"We… made… it…" Enrique panted, sprawling across the couch-bench of a private jet. "You okay… Oli?"

"Mm hm." Oliver replied, sitting next to him, staring down with peaceful purple eyes. "You?"

Enrique nodded and closed his eyes, yawning. "I wonder how Johnny and Robert are…" He muttered with a sigh, as Oliver ran his fingers through sunshine hair.

Oliver smiled. "I don't know…"

* * *

"We don't know where he is, sir."

"Of course you do!" The elder Polanski roared at the German noble. "You've told him lies and forced him to run away with that Giancarlo kid!"

"With all due respect, sir-"

"Respect? Pah; you don't have enough to give to a premature ant!"

"Listen here, mister-"

"Johnny, quiet." Robert turned back to the French man. "I'm sorry but I do not know where your son is. Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you," the Polanski made an indignant noise of protest, but Robert cut him off, "because, **I** have been civilised to you, but **you** insist on covering my face in saliva and verbally abusing me. Therefore, I refuse to talk to anymore. Good day." (1)

Robert turned his back on the French aristocrat and together, he and Johnny walked towards the door of their hotel, grabbing their bags swiftly, and departing.

As they walked out the hotel, the doors closing behind them, a black car drove up to the side of the pavement. They stepped in and the car drove off to the airport.

Johnny looked at Robert. "You really put that guy in his place, Robert." He commented.

Robert made no change in his facial expression, only stayed in his pose that could have matched Kai's. "I was merely stating a point, Johnny; I do not argue with people."

"Apart from me."

"Only on special occasions, Johnny."

There was a pause…

"Say Robert? Do you actually know where those two are?" Johnny asked from his position on the couch, where he was lying down.

"I have a gut feeling…"

"And what is your gut saying?"

"On a plane, heading towards Rome."

"Uh huh. You know, I've never trusted your stomach before, Rob, but now… I think I am… it's rather disturbing."

* * *

(1) that's kinda what I said at work today to the customer… minus the part about the saliva; that would've been disgusting…

* * *

A/N- THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! Well, unless you don't count the epilogue as a chapter…

/Cries/

Anywho, review!


	16. Epilogue

**_Epilogue _**

The door of an aircraft opened and a young teenager stepped out.

He sighed and stretched his arms out. "S'good to be back home."

"Hm," said a voice next to him, "nice to be back in Italy; I haven't been here for a while, have I, Enrique?"

"Well, you'll be **staying** here with me for a while." Enrique replied with a soft smile that would have caused any girl to faint at the sight. His blue eyes twinkled in the Italian sunshine, smiling along with his lips. "Come on, Oli."

Oliver smiled back and followed the teen down the steps and onto the grass lawn of the Giancarlo estate. As they walked along the freshly cut grass, Enrique slipped his hand into Oliver's, lacing their fingers together, but his kept his gaze up ahead. Oliver smiled faintly and gave the Italian's hand a squeeze.

"Go up to my room, Oli," Enrique said, as they entered the large terracotta villa, "I need to speak with my dad." Oliver gave him a quizzical look. "To explain what's happening. Don't worry; he's a cool guy. He'll help us."

Oliver gave a small nod and turned, walking out of the archway and up the outside stairs that were situated in the Romanesque courtyard. Enrique sighed and made his way to his father's study…

* * *

Oliver sighed for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day.

Thoughts and memories swirled through his troubled mind like rubble caught in a tornado…

**_Flashback_**

"_Same, except I didn't break up with anyone." Oliver joked; Enrique rolled his eyes. "But father gave me another talk on the restaurant."_

"_Oh. You know, you're welcome to run away and come stay with me if you want."_

**_End Flashback_**

Indeed, Oliver had runaway with Enrique in the end. It seemed like one of those teenager romance flicks where there were two lovers and the chick's father didn't want them to see each other… Romeo and Juliet, if you want a simple example…

Except, no one had died in the process…

Yes, many had been hurt… but wounds heal; even emotional ones…

**_Flashback_**

_Then, without the two fully realising it, their lips were touching in a sweet and tender kiss. Nothing fancy, nor 'frenchy', just quick and chaste. Pulling back, Enrique's heart was hammering against his chest, him (and Oliver) having just realised what they had done._

"_I… uh… see you in a minute, Oliver. I gotta… nature calls…" Enrique stuttered, running out the door. _

End Flashback 

But, he and Enrique had had some fun times; **that** couldn't be denied.

**_Flashback_**

Oliver retaliated by hitting the Italian squarely on the face with a pillow. Enrique fell back, but quickly grabbed a pillow himself and hitting the French boy back. The pillow fight carried on, with them running round the room, climbing on the bed, both not sure who was winning or losing… just having fun. White feathers soon fell, coating the bed and floor thinly in a white, fluffy layer. They collapsed on the bed after about 10 minutes fighting, lying next to each other. Oliver stared at the canopy of his bed, while Enrique lay on his side, hand holding his head up, looking at the petite teen.

**_End Flashback _**

And their second kiss…

**_Flashback_**

"_Well… let me prove it to you then…"_

_He fully pressed his lips on the French boy's own, not giving him a way out. Oliver began to kiss back, both forgetting who they were kissing… (Or had they?)_

_Enrique pulled away slowly and looked at Oliver._

"_Friends?" He whispered gently._

_Oliver smiled back. "Friends."_

**_End Flashback_**

Oliver laughed softly. Yes, they had agreed to stay friends, even after they had shared two kisses that day…

But his sweetest memory was their third kiss… more importantly, their first official kiss…

**_Flashback_**

Raising a hand, he pulled Oliver's head to the side and pressed his lips against the French boy's. His grip around Oliver's waist tightened as he felt him shift, but instead of pulling away, Oliver turned his body around so he was facing Enrique. In a matter of seconds, he found himself straddling the Italian and Enrique's hands cupping his behind, pulling him closer. The green-haired teen wound his arms round the blonde's neck for stability as the kiss intensified.

**_End Flashback_**

A blush spread across his cheeks at the thought of his position during that period of time. If anyone had caught them, they might've mistaken them for actually making out.

But it slowly went away as he began to wonder what Enrique was telling the elder Giancarlo. And how would he react? Would Enrique tell him he was gay?

Oliver frowned.

Or bisexual, really.

Anyway…

But what would happen?

All these thoughts hurt the young boy's head, making him feel queasy and light-headed…

"Oli? You okay?" Asked Enrique's voice.

Oliver nodded softly, his eyes still shut. He felt the mattress go down as Enrique crawled onto it and up to him. He felt arms wrap around his waist and he was pulled into the curve of the Italian's body, his back against Enrique's chest.

"You look a lil pale, that's all…" Enrique whispered. "You sure?"

Oliver turned around and smiled. "Just… I'm thinking too much… about all that's happened…"

"And this was supposed to be a simple reunion." Enrique added with a chuckle. He brushed green strands of hair out of the younger's face.

"What… what did your father say?"

Enrique smiled. "He agreed."

"To what?"

"To help us… he said he had an inkling about our friendship; he said he thought it was deeper than one should be…" He chuckled. "I guess he's right, though, eh? But he said that if your father comes here, he'll cover out tracks, okay? And you can stay here for as long as you like."

"Thank you… I wish I had a father like yours."

Enrique smiled sympathetically; he sighed. "You don't have to answer this, but… what's got your father so set on getting the restaurant… you know, perfect?"

"My mother."

"Your mother?"

Oliver nodded. "She died because of post-natal depression… he wants to prove to everyone that the Polanskis can survive anything; even dead loved ones." He sighed. "That's one of the reasons why I hate the restaurant. I just feel that if my father hadn't spent so much time at that restaurant while she was alive, she wouldn't have died… he always uses her as an excuse to get me to do stuff… 'your mother would want it' he'd say…"

"What'd she look like?" Enrique asked, brushing his fingers through green locks, trying to lighten the mood.

Oliver smiled, eyes unfocused due to memories. "Like me… I never knew her personally; I probably did, but I can't remember; I was around five when she died. But in photographs… that's how I know her…" He looked at Enrique. "Do you know how I got Unicolyon?" Enrique shook his head. "It was shortly after she died. Just one day… this unicorn appeared out of one of the paintings she had drawn… it followed me around everywhere, but no one else could see it; they thought that I had an imaginary friend…

"But then, I learnt how to beyblade; I think I was ten at the time… yeah, it was around the time that beyblading was at a height. And the unicorn vanished, only to appear in my blade… but it changed its appearance."

"So that transformation back in London… that's what it truly looks like?"

Oliver nodded. "S'what my mother's spirit looks like."

"Your mother-! You mean… Unicolyon… is your mother?"

Oliver looked away, ashamed to tell Enrique such a foolish, yet true, thing.

Enrique smiled and brought his gaze back to the Italian by lifting the younger's face to his. "I think she's proud of you, Oli. She wouldn't have stuck around if she didn't think good things of you. And it's even better that she's your bit beast! You must have a great connection… maybe I should kill my mother to get a good connection with Amphilyon…"

Oliver laughed and hit him with a fluffy, white pillow. A pillow fight broke out with the two, but suddenly they abandoned the pillows, kissing each other furiously.

After a long while, Enrique pulled out slowly, letting the kiss linger with smaller kisses after. He looked down at the flushed French boy below him and smiled.

"Friends?" He asked in a hushed whisper.

Oliver smiled and leant up, laying a soft kiss on the Italian's lips. "No… lovers…"

**_THE END_**

Well, there you go… the first yaoi fic that I've done without a lemon. Sorry if there were people out there who wanted one, but I didn't want to spoil this…

I hope you enjoyed _Friends?_ as much as I did writing it; twas a lot of fun.

Please review this for the last time and tell spread the word about this fic; both would be greatly appreciated!

Goodbye!

Until the next Enrique/Oliver fic-

_**Demi-goddess – Queen of OCs**_


End file.
